That's That About That
by ForForever19
Summary: AU HS. 'It's the third week of summer when Rachel Berry's vacation starts to look up.' 6-Part sequel/continuation to 'White Flag.'
1. Hey, Soul Sister

**Disclaimer**: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**AN**: This is a continuation of my one-shot 'White Flag.' It's kind of necessary to read White Flag first, just to get a feel for these characters, as they're a little OOC based on the events of 'White Flag.'

While I was writing, I found that the character of Santana was a tough one, and the story just started leading itself in one direction, and I found myself resisting. Please let me know what you think. just to see if I was the only one getting a _certain_ impression.

This 6-Part covers most of their sophomore year ('White Flag' is mainly their freshman one), and I have plans for more. Later. Some day. Anyway, please enjoy.

* * *

**Part One**

**Hey, Soul Sister**

* * *

It's the third week of summer when Rachel Berry's vacation starts to look up.

Well, _even more up_, because now she's in an actual relationship with someone she absolutely adores, and that should be that about that.

Except, well, it's not.

Because the 'someone' Rachel adores is a girl.

A very pretty girl with very pretty hazel eyes and very pretty blonde hair.

But, still, very much a girl.

Society tells them one thing, and fear dictates everything else, which is why, to the outside world, all Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray are is best friends.

Who occasionally kiss and are, admittedly, as in love as fifteen-year-olds can be.

It's not that Rachel has complaints. Not really. She and Quinn both realise the necessity to keep the truth about their romantic relationship a secret, and Rachel accepts that. They might not get to act like all those other socially-accepted couples, but they do get to do more than, say, two boys as opposed to two girls.

Because, you see, Quinn has mastered the art of casual touching in public.

It's unfortunate, Rachel reasons, that she has also perfected the art of pretending she's okay when she's really not.

Being with Quinn has clued Rachel in to some of the intricacies of clinical depression. She's done her own reading on the subject, beginning even before they started dating, and she's talked to her own therapist about ways to deal with what Quinn is coming to call her 'episodes.'

They, thankfully, don't happen often, but they _do_ happen, and both girls are forced to face what they mean: Quinn wants to run away somewhere far, far away, and Rachel is one of the only things keeping her from doing so.

Another thing, which plagues Quinn more than she cares to admit, is that she doesn't think either of her parents would survive another such loss. If she's being honest, she doesn't think any of them has really survived the first one.

It's not something Quinn generally talks about, but Rachel knows to pay attention when she does. Those moments are very important, she's come to accept, and she listens with rapt attention whenever Quinn alludes to her family and the potential reasons behind her desire to run.

Rachel hasn't been in love before, and she's never really had a close friend like Quinn before either, so she worries she's confused things to some extent.

When she brings it up to her fathers - who are, of course, already privy to the changed status of the girls' relationship - they ask her the all important question.

_Would you be satisfied with being just friends with Quinn_?

For the most part, her answer is yes.

But, then, Quinn will interlace their fingers and lean in to kiss her cheek, and Rachel suddenly just _knows_ the difference.

She's in love with her best friend, and that's that about that.

Well, it should be.

* * *

Quinn calls it a 'Mental Health Day.'

At first, Rachel doesn't quite understand what any of that has to do with her, but then Quinn goes on to explain.

"It's just a day," she says, her hand slipping easily into Rachel's as they settle onto the couch in the Berry family's living room. "My mom read about it while she was waiting in the reception at my new therapist. It's supposed to be this day when you just take the day _off_, essentially, and do something just for _you_."

Rachel merely nods, her eyes studying Quinn's face. This is the most Quinn has said about her graduation from trauma counsellor to personal, individual therapist, and Rachel has been trying not to pry.

She's learned in the past that Quinn does things only in her own time.

"Quinn," Rachel says. "It's the summer. I think every day could be referred to as a Mental Health Day."

Quinn grins at her, and Rachel feels her stomach flip. "_Obviously_," she says with a slight roll of her eyes. "I'm talking about when school starts up again. My mom says she'll allow me to skip one day per semester, and we'll get to do whatever I want. Just to give me a breather." She falls silent, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. "Just to give me the opportunity to run without actually _running_."

And, Rachel _knows_ Quinn is saying far more with that last sentence than either of them is completely ready to discuss. They've broached it from time to time, but the explicit words still evade them.

Rachel wonders if they'll ever be old enough to discuss Quinn's sometimes desire not to be here anymore.

So, what they do talk about is this:

"I'm thinking I can convince my mom to take us to the mall tomorrow," Quinn says. "We can have some lunch, and I know you've been dropping hints about that cartoon you want to watch at the cinema."

"It's an _animation_," Rachel immediately protests, which earns her a naughty grin from her blonde girlfriend. "Oh, you, what am I ever going to do with you?"

"I can think of a few things," Quinn murmurs, wiggling her eyebrows.

Rachel smiles, suddenly bashful. The two of them have done nothing more than kiss, sometimes heatedly, but they've been feeling each other out in that department.

Excuse the pun.

They're learning together, Quinn says, because they both had zero experience before they shared their first kiss in Quinn's bedroom just a few weeks ago.

Still, Rachel reasons Quinn is naturally a phenomenal kisser. There's just something about the way she uses her lips and teeth and tongue to render Rachel Berry mute that _must_ be a talent.

Which Quinn is currently putting to use.

Rachel knows Quinn wouldn't even dream of losing herself in this kind of kiss if they were in the Fabray house, so she's going to savour every sound and every touch, even if all they're doing is sitting beside each other and having a conversation without using any words.

Well, there are _some_ words.

"God, you're gorgeous."

Rachel hears and registers that Quinn has spoken, but the blonde's words are followed by a soft bite to her bottom lip, and all coherent thought fails her. She makes some kind of sound, and then she's leaning into Quinn, tempted to crawl into her lap.

She might have, she thinks, if they don't hear the sound of the key in the front door, effectively bringing an end to what could have been the furthest they've gone.

The girls immediately break apart, faces flushed and lips swollen.

LeRoy Berry doesn't even have to see them to know what they've been up to. "At least turn on the television to make it look as if you haven't just been making out," he calls out as he heads straight to the kitchen, and that definitely doesn't help with the colour in their cheeks.

"Daddy," Rachel complains with a slight whine.

"Just keeping it real, Sweetheart."

Quinn smoothes down her clothing, and then grins at Rachel. "You're still gorgeous," she whispers.

"You're not helping."

Quinn takes hold of her hand. "Just think how much worse it would be if he _actually_ caught us."

She groans out loud, and drops her head onto Quinn's shoulder, hiding her face. "I think I need a Mental Health Day right now."

* * *

"Berry," Santana says by way of greeting the very next day, and Rachel almost rolls her eyes. It's the first time they've really encountered and actually acknowledged each other outside of school or the bus, and Rachel's surprised by how strange it isn't.

It almost feels as if they've just decided to meet up at the mall to hang out, and Rachel's trying very hard not to read too much into that.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel says. "How's your summer going?"

Santana merely shrugs, not committing to an actual answer. "Yours?"

"It's been good," she says, which is an understatement. She's spent almost every day of her summer with Quinn, or talking to Quinn or texting Quinn, and it's meant everything and more to Rachel.

Santana nods, picking up on the lightness in Rachel's expression. It makes her feel irrationally jealous, and she's not even sure why. "How's our mutual friend?" Santana asks, even though the Latina has said only a handful of words to Quinn - none of them particularly kind.

Rachel glances past Santana's shoulder to where Quinn is walking towards them, a slightly wary expression on her face at the sight of the person to whom Rachel is speaking. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" Rachel suggests, and she gets far too much satisfaction from the widening of Santana's eyes and the tensing of her shoulders.

Santana turns her head to see Quinn's approach, and the two girls give each other a very significant once over.

It's all so amusing to Rachel, and she internally swoons when Quinn comes to stand at her left side, and says, "They don't have any vegan options."

"Damn," Rachel mutters; "And they looked so promising." She pouts for a moment, allows the atmosphere to turn awkward and then giggles softly. "Quinn, you know Santana. Santana, this is Quinn."

For a moment, nobody says anything.

Then, ever polite, Quinn says, "Lopez."

"Fabray."

Rachel rolls her eyes. Her experience with Santana has shown her that the Latina cares - probably doesn't actually _want_ to - and she just has an odd way of showing it. It's obvious she... worries about Quinn in some weird capacity and, while Rachel should be wary of such a thing, she knows the two girls could make good friends.

Which is why she says what she does.

"We're actually looking for a restaurant to have lunch," she tells Santana. "Would you like to join us?"

Santana knows an extended olive branch when she sees it, and she hesitates for just a beat, her eyes flicking Quinn's way. She's met with a dangerously pretty, expressionless face, and Rachel doesn't even try to hide the hope shining in her own eyes.

With an internal sigh, Santana says, "Sure."

"Great," Rachel says and, while she avoids meeting Quinn's gaze, she's able to figure out her secret girlfriend isn't entirely happy with having her - _their_ \- former tormentor crashing their lunch date.

Rachel will make it up to her later.

Or, maybe she won't even have to, because Quinn will be so grateful. Who knows?

Sensing her fate, Quinn clears her throat. "Do you know any restaurants around here that have some decent vegan options?" she asks Santana.

It's odd, Santana thinks, that this is the first time Quinn has ever spoken words directly to her, and it's like a shock to her system. For a moment, she just stares, transfixed, until Rachel clears her throat.

Santana flushes, and then draws on her instincts to see her through. "Are you a vegan?" she asks Quinn.

"God, no," is Quinn's immediate response, and she crinkles her nose in mild disgust. "Rachel is, though."

"Dude. Ew."

Quinn chuckles, and the sound seems to settle the three of them. "See, Rach, another one," she says, gently nudging Rachel with her shoulder.

Rachel rolls her eyes, looking at Santana. "She has a mental list," she explains; "of all the people who are ignorant to the health, ethical and moral benefits of veganism."

This time, Santana's laugh fills the space. "Dude." She shakes her head. "No meat. No milk. No chocolate. How are you not a basket case?"

"_Well_," Quinn says, and Rachel pokes her in the ribs.

"Shut up."

Quinn just grins back at her with deep, deep affection, and Rachel feels heat rise up her neck, because there will never be a day when being looked at like that will grow old.

If Santana notices, she says nothing about it.

"Shall we?" Rachel suggests, and then they're on the move. She falls into step beside Quinn as Santana leads the way through the mall, looking as if she has a destination in mind.

Quinn is walking very close to her, their hands brushing every few steps, and Rachel can't help feeling giddy and young and happily in love.

She always worries about their secret, worries how Quinn will react if anyone ever reads too closely into their friendship and sees the truth behind their seemingly innocent interactions.

But, then, Quinn will take chances like these: stand too close, hold her hand between their bodies, and Rachel can forget that the great big world even exists.

"What about this place?" Santana asks, coming up to a tiny Italian restaurant next to a music store. "They have vegan pasta, apparently." She looks at Quinn. "You eat pizza?"

Quinn doesn't, but she nods anyway. She's sure she'll find something somewhat decent to eat on the menu. "I'm game," she says. "Rach?"

"I could definitely go for some Italian."

Rachel thinks it should be awkward, but it's really not. In fact, it's almost worrying how the three of them seem to settle into conversation over their respective menus.

"I think I'm going to try the gnocchi," Quinn eventually declares, snapping her menu shut. "Have you two old ladies decided yet?"

"I resent that," Rachel says, still studying the options. "Just because we're older than you." She shakes her head. "The youth of today have absolutely no respect for their elders."

Quinn just laughs, this soft, breathy sound.

Santana remains silent as she reads. Then: "We can't go wrong with lasagna, right?"

"Nope," Rachel says. "They even have a cheeseless, vegan option."

"Oh, God," Santana complains, dropping her head onto the table with a dramatic thump. "You're literally sucking out my soul."

And, then, Quinn - precious, precious, lovable, adorable Quinn - says, "What soul?" and then laughs.

Santana exchanges a wary look with Rachel, who just shrugs.

And, okay, maybe this is Quinn's way of telling Santana that she's forgiven without the express apology, but nothing has been forgotten.

Rachel reaches for Quinn's hand under the table, carefully linking their fingers and squeezing gently.

Their server comes to take their order then, and the potentially awkward moment disappears into thin air.

It's almost too easy after that.

Somehow, Santana and Quinn get to talking about Harry Potter, and Rachel is content to sit back and just watch them get into a heated discussion about whether or not Harry really should have been in Gryffindor or Slytherin.

Rachel is almost taken aback that this gets to be her life now, because even she can't mistake that this is the start of something truly very special.

* * *

This is how it starts.

This friendship that started as tormentor versus tormented, and has ended up with Santana, Quinn and Rachel spending nearly ever afternoon outside by Quinn's pool, or nearly every evening inside the Berry basement, watching movies and singing surprisingly amazing karaoke.

* * *

The first time Rachel invites Santana over, both brunettes are unsure.

"Is Quinn okay with that?" Santana asks, because this has always been about Quinn, even when they could both pretend it isn't.

"She doesn't know," Rachel tells her truthfully. "She'll find out when she gets there."

"Won't she be mad?"

"Quinn doesn't really get mad," she says knowingly. "It's not really part of her personality."

"Oh?"

Rachel shrugs. "If she has a problem with it, we'll talk it out after you've left."

Santana just laughs. "It's your funeral," she says offhandedly, and then freezes.

"Right," Rachel says sombrely; "you should probably learn to censor yourself about things like that when you're around her."

"She doesn't know I know, does she?"

"No, she doesn't," Rachel says. "I think it's best if you let her tell you what she needs to in her own time. It's something of a bonding experience when she opens up to you."

Santana regards her closely. "She's important to you?"

"She's my best friend."

Santana opens her mouth, as if she wants to ask something else, but she thinks better of it. Not today. "What time should I get there?"

"Is five o'clock okay?"

"Sure."

* * *

And, like most things with the three of them, it's decidedly not awkward when Quinn does show up, practically strolling into the Berry home to find Rachel and Santana sifting through Rachel's movies for the perfect one.

Quinn's steps falter on the stairs to the basement, but she recovers quickly enough. "Hey," she says to them both.

Rachel immediately jumps up and rushes to her, casually draping her arms over Quinn's shoulders and bringing her into a tight embrace. "Hi," she whispers into Quinn's ear.

"What's going on?"

"Santana's joining us for our sleepover," Rachel informs her.

"Oh?"

Rachel squeezes once, and then reluctantly releases her. If Santana weren't in the room, they would probably be kissing... or doing some other things. It's the first time she realises that the two of them are going to have to censor their own relationship, and she suddenly regrets extending the invitation.

But, then, she also doesn't.

Quinn clears her throat. "What are we watching?" she asks, stepping past Rachel and further into the basement.

"Berry is convinced we're going to watch a musical," Santana says; "which is totally not happening."

Quinn can't help her grin. "I second that."

Rachel puffs out a breath. "I knew this was going to be a bad idea," she grumbles.

Quinn just wraps an arm around her shoulders, bringing her into a placating hug. "Let's watch something else first, and then you can whip out the _PowerPoint_ to convince us, okay?"

Rachel pouts adorably, and Quinn looks like she wants to lean in and kiss it right off her lips.

But, Quinn catches herself, and then slips away without a word.

Rachel sighs.

Definitely not one of her better ideas.

* * *

It's nothing new, Quinn reasons, that she encounters Santana on her morning run just a few days later.

Before this particular Saturday, they didn't acknowledge each other, but things are different now.

They're _friends_.

Kind of.

So, when Santana sees Quinn, she falls into step beside her and they run together in silence.

For at least five miles.

While Santana develops a sheen of sweat, Quinn looks completely unruffled.

"How the fuck are you not dying right now?" Santana asks, panting, when they finally stop for a drink of water. "I'm a fucking Cheerio, which means I'm basically a robot, so what the fuck are you made of?"

Quinn just laughs. "You swear a lot more when you can't breathe, did you know that?"

Santana huffs. "How?"

Quinn shrugs. "I run a lot," she says. "It's the best way I've found to keep the weight off that doesn't include starving myself."

Santana looks away immediately, a sick feeling settling in her gut. She remembers her own hurtful words regarding Lucy's extra weight, and the guilt of it is threatening to drag her down.

"I'm sorry," Santana practically blurts out. "I mean - _fuck_ \- that came out wrong."

Quinn arches an eyebrow, and it's an action Santana has now come to associate with Quinn Fabray. "How was it supposed to come out?" she asks, and Santana suspects she's never really stood a chance with this girl.

"Better."

Quinn smiles gently. "Would you like another go at it?" she asks.

Santana flushes, though she doesn't really know why. "Umm, yes."

"Another time, maybe."

"Sure," Santana says.

Quinn pokes her in the bicep. "You take yourself too seriously, Santana," she says. "I recognise a conflicted soul when I see one. We're one and the same."

And, really, for the first time, Santana is certain of it.

* * *

It's impossible, Rachel realises, to hide her affection for Quinn when in such close quarters with Santana.

They're young and they're in love, and Rachel really likes to touch, because one of her love languages is Touch, and, well, her girlfriend is hot.

Dangerously so.

So, it's not a surprise when Santana asks the question of her just days after the three of them have fallen into a lovely summer routine.

Rachel thinks she's the one who gave them away because she remembers Santana giving her a curious look when Rachel automatically dropped into Quinn's lap, and then immediately slid off as if she'd been burned.

Which makes the question Santana asks almost expected.

"Are you two, um, together?"

Rachel spends a moment thinking hard about her response, and then shifts her gaze to Santana's face. From the expression she finds, she knows the question is being asked as a courtesy, because it's obvious Santana already knows the truth.

Still.

"Would you have a problem if we were?" Rachel asks.

"No."

The hastiness of her response piques Rachel's interest but she makes no comment on it, choosing rather to wait patiently.

"I mean, no, I wouldn't have a problem with it," Santana says carefully, her lips pressed together. "I don't," she assures Rachel, and then rolls her eyes at herself. "Has - has it been long?"

"Not really," she admits. "At least, officially. I've liked her for a long time, though."

Santana mulls that over. "You're both happy?"

Rachel sighs. "I don't know if I can ever go so far as to call Quinn 'happy,'" she says; "but we do have more good days than bad ones, and I suppose that must count for something."

Santana offers her a genuine smile, and then sobers slightly. "Aren't you scared?"

"Every second of every day," Rachel confesses. "I'm terrified. More for Quinn than for myself. Her family is less accepting than mine is." She shifts in her seat. "My dads know about us and, while I think her parents will be more... kind about their reaction - after what happened to her sister - Quinn doesn't want to risk it."

Santana just nods, feeling something terrifying twist in her gut.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says, blushing slightly. "I don't really have people to talk to about this, and you're the only one who even knows about Quinn's sister." She sighs. "I worry my dads are going to do something crazy in some misguided attempt to protect me if they find out just what we're actually dealing with, and I won't risk it. I won't risk Quinn, and I definitely won't risk Lucy."

Santana's guilt has never quite dissipated, and it seems to be getting worse with every day she gets closer to both Quinn and Rachel. She remembers _that_ day more clearly recently, now that she's with Quinn more often than not.

Because this is _Quinn_ she's getting to know, not Lucy, and sometimes that truth hurts her. Santana thinks she would have liked Lucy, had she given her the chance.

But, then again, Lucy probably wouldn't have liked Santana.

At all.

Because, if she's being honest, sometimes Santana doesn't even like herself.

Santana sighs. "Why haven't you told your fathers I used to bully the both of you?"

Rachel looks pensive for a moment, and then she smiles to ease some of the tension in Santana's body. "I don't really see the point," she says. "You're not that person anymore, are you?"

Santana can't meet her gaze. "Not right now, I'm not," she says, almost whispering. "I don't know how things are going to be when we get back to school."

Rachel just nods. "Then, telling them anything is moot, anyway," she says. "If things could go back to the way they were before, what does is matter, right?"

And, maybe it's the way Rachel can just sweep everything under the rug and, somehow, act as if their friendship has always been temporary that makes Santana's insides twist unpleasantly.

She's struck by how much she wants this to be permanent.

* * *

"Have you ever thought of joining the Cheerios?"

Santana asks the question, not sure what she's expecting, but still startles at the sound of Quinn's laugh. It's obviously not what she's expecting, but she can't say she's surprised by Quinn's reaction.

"I'm guessing that's a no, then," Santana says, frowning slightly as she works to catch her breath.

Quinn sips at her water. "I wanted to," she eventually says. "When we first moved here, I had this entire plan."

Santana waits in silence, realising this is one of those moments Rachel told her about when it comes to Quinn. She knows to pay attention.

"As Lucy, things were... bad, so I wanted to be... better," Quinn says, her eyes drifting to the side as she remembers. "I was going to lose the weight, get the braces off, change the glasses and, I know it sounds stupid, but I was even going to ask for a nose job."

Santana's eyes widen.

"I hated myself, Santana," she says. "I hated Lucy so much, and I was willing to do anything to escape her, because I didn't want to be at the bottom anymore. When my father was offered the opportunity to transfer, I started making all these plans, and one of those was to join the cheerleading squad like my sister."

Santana can barely breathe, because this is the first time Quinn has ever mentioned her sister.

"But, well, I guess, plans are just plans, right?"

All Santana can do is nod.

Quinn shrugs. "And, as hot as you all are, or whatever; most of you are really quite awful."

Santana can't exactly dispute that. She's one of them, is she not? Wait. Did Quinn just inadvertently call her hot? "Would you consider it now?" she asks, anyway.

"Maybe," Quinn says. "My sister seemed to enjoy it, and it'll probably help keep me active and in shape."

"So, you'll come to the tryouts at cheer camp?"

Quinn gives her a look. "If you can convince Rachel it's a good idea, why not?"

Santana groans. "Well, there goes that," she mutters.

Quinn smiles softly. "She said you two talked about... us."

"We did."

"And, you're okay?"

Santana nods. "I also promised her I wouldn't tell anyone, if you're worried about that," she says. "I know I wasn't always... nice to you - either of you - but, I promise, whatever happens when we start school; I won't tell a soul."

"Ah."

"What?"

"Rachel also mentioned that, well, things might change when school does start up again," she says. "She was very apathetic about it; as if she expected it."

Santana isn't sure how to respond to that, but it makes her feel awful.

"Is that why you want me to join the Cheerios?" Quinn asks; "so nothing has to change?"

She can't completely hide her guilty look.

Quinn's facial expression doesn't change, giving nothing away. "I understand social pressures, Santana," she says. "Lucy wasn't always strong enough to handle them, but Quinn is better at it. Maybe it's something you can learn, as well."

"From you?"

Quinn laughs. "I wouldn't dream of teaching you anything," she says; "but Rachel might."

* * *

"Absolutely not."

Quinn just rolls her eyes, and then winks at Santana - which gets the Latina's heart beating erratically - before addressing Rachel again. "But, think about it, Rach," she says; "it makes more sense to watch the scary movie first, and then the cartoon."

"Animation," Rachel pouts, folding her arms across her chest, which is an action that draws Quinn's gaze to her breasts.

Santana clears her throat, and Quinn's eyes snap upwards, her face flushing.

Rachel doesn't seem to notice.

Quinn breathes out. "The _animation_ will make you feel better after the scary movie," she points out.

"I'm probably going to fall asleep before we even get to the animation," Rachel counters; "which means I'm going to have nightmares."

Quinn steps towards her, lowering her voice. "I'll protect you," she says.

"Don't try to woo me, Fabray."

"We'll snuggle," Quinn continues anyway. "Under the blanket. Now that San knows, we don't have to hide."

Rachel considers her offer for a moment, and then nods. "That sounds acceptable," she finally declares.

"Thank God," Santana exclaims, raising her arms in the air. "I thought I was going to have to dart one of you or something."

"Santana," Rachel huffs.

"Can we just watch a fucking movie already?"

Quinn just laughs as Rachel storms around the basement like an ineffective, little hurricane, setting out their snacks, putting in the chosen movie - _Prom Night_ \- and then throwing herself onto the couch.

Quinn settles in beside her, and then lays her arm along the back of the couch, inviting Rachel to lean against her. Which the brunette does immediately, snuggling into Quinn's side and sighing contently.

Santana stands awkwardly, having been tasked with switching off the lights. She knows where she fits in here - sort of - but it's the first time she's witnessing her new friends actually act like a couple.

Quinn glances up at her and smiles softly. "I have two sides," she says, somewhat coyly, as she pats the space on her other side.

Santana's heart skips a traitorous beat, but she recovers in time. "I'm not fucking snuggling with you," she grumbles, even as she moves to sit beside Quinn.

"Your loss," Rachel murmurs happily from her position.

Quinn just nods, and then covers Santana's legs with the blanket she and Rachel are sharing. "At least come into the cocoon of warmth, you stubborn ass."

Santana has another barb on the tip of her tongue, but it gets stuck somewhere when Quinn leans back, their arms coming to rest against each other. There's nothing abnormal about the position, but her heart is beating far too forcefully for it to be normal.

Somehow, Santana manages to focus on the movie, which is one of her favourites, even if the black chick is one of the first to die.

Typical.

Santana isn't sure how it happens but she ends up leaning against Quinn more heavily as the movie goes on. She's aware of Rachel's gasps and mumbled words from the other side of Quinn, the girl burying her face in the crook of Quinn's neck when the suspense on the screen is too much.

Santana is also aware of the fact her heart hasn't slowed since she sat. She reasons it must be the movie - it's designed to get the heart pumping, after all - but she knows better.

This is something else.

That becomes almost unbearable when Quinn drops her head onto Santana's shoulder. The Latina sucks in a short breath, and then holds it.

This isn't happening.

None of this is happening.

She can ignore it, the way she's being ignoring everything else.

* * *

Santana waits until the end of the movie to bring up the idea of the Cheerios to Rachel. The other girl is, as predicted, halfway to slumber, and Santana knows she'll be the most truthful like this.

"So, Berry, how would you feel if Q was a cheerleader?"

Neither Santana nor Quinn expects it when Rachel says, "Lonely."

Quinn's brow furrows.

Rachel hums tiredly. "What if she gets too popular and won't want to be friends with me anymore?" she asks, mumbling into Quinn's shirt.

Quinn isn't sure what to say to that; she's so shocked.

"She would never do that," Santana responds for her.

"Why not?" Rachel murmurs. "You're going to do it."

Santana wants to argue that it's different, because it is - Quinn loves Rachel, and her popularity won't ever change that - but Rachel's words feel like a punch to the gut.

It's true, though, and Santana feels awful and foolish.

Rachel puffs out a breath. "But Quinn would totally look hot in the uniform."

Santana stops herself from automatically agreeing out loud because, God, how would she even explain such a thing?

"I totally would," Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of Rachel's head.

Santana feels that now-familiar pang in her chest. She clears her throat. "You know, Berry, you could save us all a lot of trouble if you just joined as well."

And, if Rachel was almost asleep a second ago, she's now caught in a vicious coughing fit, the reprimand sitting on the tip of her tongue.

Needless to say, the Latina finds it immensely entertaining.

So does Quinn.

* * *

It's almost too easy for Quinn to join the Squad.

All she really has to do is show up, because Sue Sylvester has been keeping a close eye on her, watching and waiting. Planning.

The other girls on the Squad also know her as the girl who repeatedly said no to Finn Hudson. There's something mysterious about her that nobody can quite figure out. It makes her almost untouchable, intriguing in the worst ways and... on-demand.

Quinn is generally quiet through the first days of cheer camp. She stays at Santana's side as she learns the ropes but, once she's clued in to the intricacies of Squad politics and the upcoming choreography, it's Santana who starts standing at _her_ side.

The shift is subtle, but the other girls can sense it.

This Quinn Fabray is something completely different; something truly special.

* * *

"How do you do it?" Santana asks Quinn as they head back to Santana's house after a gruelling day of practice. Rachel is supposed to meet them for dinner with Santana's family, and the Latina is a little nervous about it.

She's not ashamed of her new friends; she's more ashamed of herself.

She still hasn't been able to apologise properly to either of them, and she can't be sure any of them has really been able to move past it the way they obviously need to.

"Do what?" Quinn asks, her gym bag slung over her shoulder.

"Command like that."

Quinn frowns. "Command?"

Santana shakes her head. "Shit," she mutters; "you don't even know you're doing it."

"Doing what?"

Santana doesn't respond, because this is the first time she figures out just how dangerous Quinn actually is. If the girl was ever to realise her power, the masses would probably be doomed.

As it is, though, it's just Santana who's going to burn in Hell.

She knows she shouldn't look, but she can't help it. The same way she finds her eyes drifting in the locker room, her eyes track Quinn as she gathers her things for her shower... and then starts to strip.

It's not the first time, but Santana is... struggling.

They're in Santana's bedroom, alone in the house before Santana's family gets back from their visit to the aquarium in Columbus, and Quinn has called dibs on the first shower, seeing as both girls left the school without bothering to return to the locker rooms.

So, Santana finds herself in a bit of a dilemma. She immediately excuses herself, mentioning something about her mother having asked her to take some meat out of the freezer to thaw in preparation for dinner.

Suddenly, she can't remember if she told her mother Rachel is a vegan.

Quinn just hums in response, and Santana practically bolts from the room. She feels like the worst person in the world, for a number of reasons.

She's well aware of Quinn's religious upbringing - it almost mirrors her own, with hers maybe having a bit more flare - so she reasons that liking girls isn't deemed a cardinal sin in Quinn's eyes.

She doesn't know if it's the same for her. She _can't_. Her parents, her brother and her sister. Fuck. Her Abuela.

Then, there's the _girl_.

Quinn.

Fuck. Again.

Of all the girls in the world. It isn't even that she's actually this terrifying, beautiful being, with secrets and issues and this gorgeous smile that's there and also not. It's -

Well, it's _Rachel_.

Santana feels the guilt twist in her chest.

No.

This isn't even an issue.

Santana is fine.

It's all in her head, anyway, and she knows just the thing to help her deal with all these conflicting thoughts.

She hasn't spoken to him all summer - she's been busy with Quinn, Rachel and the Cheerios - but, when she calls, Noah Puckerman answers.

* * *

It's Rachel who brings it up to Quinn, the two of them curled up on Rachel's bed as the brunette reads out loud for them both. She's reading one of Quinn's favourite novels,_ Alice in Wonderland_, and Quinn is as content as can be.

"What?" Quinn asks, having missed some of Rachel's words, lost in her own head.

"Santana," Rachel says, rolling over to look at Quinn. "Has she seemed... off to you?"

Quinn gives it a bit of thought. "Come to think of it, yes," she says. "She wasn't even my partner at practice today."

Rachel frowns. "Do you think it's because of what happened at dinner the other night?"

Quinn winces at the memory. The night, itself, started out well enough. Quinn and Rachel are polite to a fault, well-mannered and complimentary, so Santana's family took to them immediately, all of them suitably charmed.

Then, well, the questions started.

Rachel didn't mean for it to happen, but, somehow, Santana's past indiscretions were brought up, and she remembers the disapproving looks her parents sent the Latina.

Then, of course, there was the fact that Santana didn't warn Rachel not to mention her two gay fathers. Santana's little brother, Julio, asked why she had two of them and, before Rachel could answer, Santana's mother, Maribel, said, "It doesn't, and should never, concern you, Mija. Those aren't choices we make in this family."

Needless to say, the evening turned awkward very quickly.

"Maybe," Quinn offers, even though she's not entirely sure. It feels like something else, but she also isn't sure mentioning that to Rachel will help. She thinks she's going to have to talk to Santana about it alone.

Tomorrow.

* * *

Or, today.

Rachel abandons her reading to press kisses to the column of Quinn's throat, smiling at the feel of the blonde's racing pulse under her lips. Quinn's fingers are trailing over the skin of her back, and Rachel can't imagine her life getting any better than this.

Their mouths have just met for a searing kiss when Quinn's phone starts to ring. Both of them groan for reasons other than pleasure, and then Quinn is stretching to reach for the offending device on Rachel's nightstand.

She frowns at the Caller ID. "It's San," she says, shifting into an upright position when Rachel does as well.

"I thought she said she was busy tonight," Rachel says, recalling the Latina's excuse of a party being thrown at Noah Puckerman's house.

Quinn just shrugs as she answers the phone, immediately wincing at the volume coming through the speaker. "Hello," she says, holding the phone between herself and Rachel.

"Quinn?"

For a moment, neither girl recognises the voice, but then Rachel touches Quinn's forearm as she mouths, "Noah."

Quinn nods, and then clears her throat. "Where's Santana?" she asks.

There's a beat, and then the boy says, "She's here."

Quinn isn't sure what to say.

"She's - she's crying," he says.

Quinn immediately tenses, and Rachel is already getting to her feet, searching for their shoes. "What happened?" she asks, and her tone is icy.

Even through the phone, Noah flinches. "Everything was fine," he starts. "We were making out, and she was into it, I swear. She's the one who suggested we come upstairs, and I said yes. I mean, of course I was going to say yes; she's smoking hot."

Rachel lets out a squeak as she trips over Quinn's abandoned cardigan on the floor.

Noah doesn't notice. "So, we were just here, and I got her into bed, and she was into it. She was, I swear." He pauses. "We started taking off our clothes, and I was - we were - she wanted it, she really did."

Quinn clenches her jaw. "What happened?"

"I was, uh, inside," he starts awkwardly; "and she started making these sounds, and I thought, you know, she was enjoying it, but then she just started freaking out."

Quinn can't bring herself to move.

"She started screaming, and then crying, and then she kept saying no over and over again, and then I stopped, and she started hyperventilating or something, and now she's locked herself in the bathroom and I don't know what to do."

Quinn thinks for a moment, and then looks at Rachel. She mutes the phone as she asks, "Do you think one of your fathers can drive us?"

Rachel is already nodding, as she flies out of the room.

Quinn slips her feet off the bed and returns her attention to Noah, even as she simultaneously puts on her shoes. "Text me the address," she says; "I'm coming to get her." And then she hangs up, and heads downstairs to find Rachel and her father, LeRoy, already waiting.

The drive is silent. Rachel doesn't even put on any music. She just sits up front with her stoic father and glances nervously at her blonde girlfriend from time to time.

Quinn looks very calm, which is worrying for Rachel. There's always been an intensity about her, but this is different. This is her protective side rising to the surface, and Rachel knows how fierce she can be. It's a little terrifying, but also extremely attractive.

When LeRoy pulls up in front of a booming house, Quinn very calmly says, "Wait here," to them both, and then climbs out.

Rachel doesn't dare move as she watches Quinn disappear into the house, blonde hair lingering in her mind's eye.

She's suddenly terrified of the Quinn Fabray who's going to emerge.

* * *

They don't immediately talk about it.

Rachel finds out from a sober, remorseful Santana the next morning that Quinn came storming in, kicked Noah hard between the legs, and then practically swept her out of the house - wrapping protective arms around her - like some kind of knight in shining armour.

Who is missing in action.

Rachel woke to an empty bed, Quinn's belongings gone with her, and now Rachel and Santana are left to ponder over the events of the previous evening.

Thankfully, Rachel's fathers allowed the inebriated and hysterical girl to stay over, and Rachel set up a bed for her on the floor of her bedroom. She couldn't stand the thought of Santana being in the guest room, particularly after such a traumatic event.

The entire night, Quinn was tense at her side, and Rachel could tell she was fighting desperately not to run.

She did, eventually.

"I'm sorry," Santana says over her cereal she can't bring herself to eat, the two of them alone in the Berry kitchen.

Rachel just sighs. "We should talk about it," she says.

"Can we not, and just say we did?"

Rachel glares at her, and then lets out a tired sigh. "You slept with Noah."

Santana winces; from the truth of that statement or from her hangover, who knows? "I - I did," she says. "I wanted to. I needed to."

Rachel frowns. "Were you feeling pressured?"

Santana breathes out slowly, unable to say that she was pressuring herself... to like it. She needed to know for sure, and now she does.

Before either of them knows it, Santana bursts into tears, and Rachel's eyes widen in alarm. She jumps to her feet immediately and rounds the table to hug the other girl tightly.

"It's okay," Rachel tries to soothe, even though she has no idea what's going on. "I promise, it's going to be okay."

Santana can't be sure she can bring herself to believe the words.

* * *

'The Incident,' as Rachel has come to call it, changes something.

In Quinn.

In Santana.

In all of them.

The Quinn Rachel knows and loves disappears for a few days, replacing her with a quiet, thoughtful, sombre version. Rachel isn't unused to the different Quinns on offer, but they've gone nearly an entire summer without Quinn retreating this far into herself, and she misses her girlfriend.

Santana blames herself when Rachel mentions it to her, and Rachel is quick to shut that down.

"It's not your fault," she says. "This kind of thing just happens. She'll work through it, seeking us out if she needs us. It's how it works."

Santana blinks. "How do you do it?"

Rachel sighs. "I try not to take it too personally," she says. "I know it's to do with her, and not me. I just have to be here when she reaches out, and I have to accept that I might not always be what she needs."

"Because, sometimes, she needs the silence?"

"I can't tell if that's a dig at my tendency to talk too much or not?"

Santana just smiles a little sadly at her. "She's lucky to have you," she says softly.

Rachel frowns slightly at Santana's tone, but still says, "Make sure to let her know."

* * *

"Would you still love me if I were on antidepressants?"

The question catches Rachel so off guard that she drops the entire stack of sheet music in her hands.

Quinn is sitting on Rachel's bed, legs crossed as she searches through the brunette's laptop for a suitable movie for them to watch. She just sits, innocently waiting for Rachel to speak.

"Quinn," Rachel finally says, not even bothering to pick up her music sheets, as she moves towards Quinn. She sits opposite her and immediately reaches for her hands. "What's going on?"

"My - my therapist mentioned it today," Quinn explains. "She wants to know how I would feel trying out an antidepressant, and I want to know how _you_ would feel."

Rachel audibly swallows. "You're fifteen years old," she says.

Quinn drops her gaze. "I don't think age means anything when it comes to depression, Rachel," she says. "Or, I guess, sexuality."

Rachel takes a deep breath, and then releases it slowly. "I just want you healthy and happy, Quinn," she says. "I want you _here_. So, if the healthcare professional with the degree and expertise thinks medication will benefit you, then we'll work with it."

"It - it won't bother you?"

"Why would it bother me?"

"You'd really be dating a basket case," she says.

Rachel sighs. "Aren't you dating one, as well?"

Quinn manages a smile. "I'm sorry I can't just be… better," she says. "I'm trying, though. I really am."

"I know, baby," Rachel says, cupping Quinn's cheek with her palm. "We both know it's not something that can just be _fixed_. You said it yourself, didn't you? This thing, it's a disease, and this is just another way for it to be treated. The same way people have to take other medications for diabetes or for high blood pressure, you can take something for - "

"My thoughts on my own mortality."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "I love you," she says. "I'm always going to love you, through all the struggles, okay? If I have to date a basket case, then I'm glad it's you."

Quinn just laughs, and then seems to relax. "I still have to talk to my parents about it," she reveals; "but I think I'm willing to try it. For all we know, it could really help." She turns her head slightly, and kisses Rachel's palm. "Come on, we're watching _The Lion King_."

Rachel's eyes light up. "We are?"

Quinn just nods, a small smile on her face, and Rachel knows she's a little closer to getting her girlfriend back.

* * *

Rachel knows Quinn is back to as settled as she possibly can be when said girl comes barrelling into Rachel's room with Santana following behind her after Cheerios practice and declares, "I'm king of the world!"

Rachel is, as expected, utterly confused, and she looks to Santana for an explanation.

"Don't look at me," she says; "she's been like this all day."

"Why?"

"Well, Berry, your girl here just climbed up a level on the Cheerio pyramid."

Rachel looks at Quinn, frowning. "I don't know what that means."

Quinn throws herself onto the bed beside Rachel, disrupting the brunette's work. "It means I'm king of the world," she practically sings.

"Quinn!" Rachel reprimands, trying to save her music sheets from ending up on the floor - again.

Quinn just grins at her, and then leans in for a kiss that Rachel is all too willing to give. They're usually more reserved around Santana, limiting themselves to hugs and cuddles. They've never really kissed in front of her - as brief as it is - and Santana feels everything she's trying to hold onto begin to unravel.

She's been able to ignore what the incident with Noah means for her, choosing rather to focus on cheerleading and trying to get Quinn back from whatever edge she drifted to.

But, now, Santana is going to have to acknowledge that the something she's been ignoring is there, just below the surface.

She thinks it's funny, actually, the karmic justice of it all.

Of course, the Universe sent her _this_ with which to deal. As if she wasn't dealing with enough. The _girl_ she likes _has_ to be Quinn Fabray. She could probably deal with one of those things at a time, but _both_?

This is going to be the test of all tests.

She's bound to fail, because isn't she already?

* * *

"Are we still going to be friends when we start school?"

Santana almost expects the question, but it still catches her off guard. She chokes a little on the smoothie the three of them spent a half hour making before they descended on the Berry basement, and eyes Rachel warily.

"I mean, I'd like to be prepared," Rachel says, sounding entirely too calm, even as she sits curled up against Quinn's side on the couch. "Because, I really wasn't prepared for when Noah threw that first slushy at me, after we'd just been laughing together at Temple."

Quinn tightens her grip around the girl's shoulders and absently presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Santana tries not to watch, but she fails. Everything that's been happening in her life can be traced back to that day in October when she was... bored, and decided that the blonde girl fidgeting in her seat was going to be her next target.

_Well, Universe, you clearly got the last say,_ Santana thinks bitterly.

"San?" Quinn prompts when the silence goes on too long, her one eyebrow rising in question.

Santana clears her throat. "We're good, Berry."

Rachel looks slightly disbelieving as she straightens. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Because, I don't think I could handle it if you say one thing, and then everything changes when we arrive at McKinley."

Santana swallows audibly. "I mean it, Berry," she says. Then, sighing, she adds, "I mean it, Rachel."

Rachel waits a beat before a beaming smile spreads across her face. She does a little dance in her seat, and then pats the space beside her. "Come sit here," she says happily. "We have so much to discuss."

Santana suddenly looks wary. "We do?" she asks, glancing at Quinn.

The blonde just shrugs, and then she winks.

Oh, yeah, Santana is so screwed.


	2. Rumour Has It

**Part Two**

**Rumour Has It**

* * *

So, it's a different sight that the regulars of Quinn and Rachel's bus arrive to, on the first day of school.

Quinn Fabray, dressed in her Cheerios best, flanked by Santana Lopez, looking all kinds of dangerous in her own red, black and white armour, and, well, Rachel Berry.

Quinn pays nobody any attention as the three of them climb onto the bus, having waited at Santana's house to be picked up together. She's aware people are staring, slack-jawed, but she has eyes for only one person.

Mike Chang.

Said boy is sitting in the fifth row, his head bowed as he focuses on some comic book in his lap. She hasn't seen him all summer, because he's been away at Asian Camp or something like that, and he's not yet looking for her because they're nowhere near her house yet.

Quinn offers a smile to Rachel, who just nods, and then she heads to the fifth row, dropping herself into the seat beside Mike.

His head snaps up. "Oh, um, this seat is - " he starts to say, and then immediately shuts up.

"Hey," Quinn says, her smile a little hesitant. It was one thing to convince Rachel, but she hopes her other best friend won't run from her new Cheerio status.

Because, there's no way she's letting her new position force her away from him.

It takes Mike a moment, but then he lets out a short laugh. "Dude," he says; "you're one of them."

Quinn rolls her eyes.

"I am, too."

"What?"

He shrugs, and then shifts his bag at his feet to reveal his Letterman jacket. "My father made me join the football team," he explains; "it's supposed to look good on college applications."

"Dude," she returns; "you're totally one of them, too."

He grins at her, which only grows when his eyes lift up to the brunette standing at Quinn's side. "Hi, Rachel," he says.

"Hello, Mike," she says politely. "How was your summer?"

He winces slightly. "Uh, it was okay," he says. "Not as fun as yours, that's for sure."

Rachel just hums, because that's probably true. She places a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "I'm going to sit with Tina, okay?"

Quinn just nods, offering her a small smile, even though she has no idea who Tina is or where Rachel could have possibly met her.

"See you later, Mike," Rachel says, and then disappears further down the bus.

Mike looks at Quinn, eyes wide. "_Dude_," he says.

"What?"

"You're a Cheerio."

She shakes her head. "Whatever," she says. "Tell me about what you're reading."

* * *

It's not... whatever.

The second Quinn Fabray steps into the corridors of William McKinley for her sophomore year, everyone notices her.

It's vastly different to the start of the previous year, where Lucy went largely unnoticed until Santana tripped her one day in October.

No.

This year, the masses practically part for her, and she's left to marvel at how much this uniform has already changed her school life.

If she was desirable before, she's on an entirely new level now, and she realises that Finn Hudson is going to be the least of her problems far too late.

He's just one of many boys who is interested in her for whatever reason - it has to be something aesthetic or to do with her new popularity - because nobody even knows her.

Quinn won't allow them to.

By the end of the first week, she's exhausted, and her rejections are a practiced art.

The trip home after that particularly draining Friday is spent at Rachel's side. Mike sits in front of them with another boy, Matt, and Quinn has to be proud of him for opening up a little. She supposes being on the football team will force him to socialise.

Rachel smiles at her, fingers automatically linking with hers between them on the seat. This leather, and this bus have played such an important role in their… relationship.

Because they're _in_ a relationship.

Somehow, their romance managed to survive the summer months during which Rachel spent ten days away at music camp and Quinn visited her father's family in Arizona for five torturous days.

Quinn almost cried herself to sleep every night she was there. Her father's family didn't even _try_ to call her Quinn - she thought she left Lucy behind - and none of them was unafraid to mention Frannie, and not particularly kindly.

Somehow, Rachel and Quinn's affection for each other has held strong through Quinn's first few conscious, depressive episodes and Rachel's tendency to overcomplicate, overreact and overwhelm.

They're in love and, even though they're going to have to work at it, it's always going to be worth it.

Rachel squeezes Quinn's hand, and the blonde turns her head. "I thought this year would be easier," she says.

Quinn chuckles softly. "No, you didn't."

She sighs. "I don't want to have to watch people fawn over you, when you're _mine_," she whispers.

Quinn tugs on her hand slightly. "Come over," she says soberly. "We probably should have spoken about this before we started school."

Rachel just hums, because Quinn is right.

School is very different to how it's been over the summer, and Rachel has to face the reality that her girlfriend is probably the most eligible girl in the entire school, and Finn Hudson, and other boys alike, is probably, definitely, going to step up his game - if he actually has any - to get Quinn.

* * *

Their _talk_ ends up as more of a heated make-out session in Quinn's bedroom, both of them trying to ease Rachel's anxiety about the entire situation at school.

They're both lying on their sides, bodies not quite pressed together. Quinn's hands are splayed on the skin of Rachel's back, and the brunette's are fisted around the fabric of Quinn's uniform.

Their physical relationship has come easily, and also not. Quinn isn't usually the one to initiate their make-out sessions, and Rachel tries really hard not to read too much into it. She knows Quinn enjoys kissing her - the breathlessness and moans give her away - but Rachel gets the feeling Quinn, sometimes, doesn't _want_ to enjoy it.

For a moment, Rachel considers that Quinn might feel guilty for enjoying anything about her life, when her sister -

Quinn nibbles at her bottom lip, and all thoughts escape Rachel.

"I want you, and only you," Quinn murmurs against Rachel's swollen lips. The fingers of her left hand trail over the tanned skin of Rachel's neck. "I'm yours."

"Mine," Rachel whispers right back, feeling slightly dazed.

Quinn's lips dance over her cheek and along her jaw. "I don't want anyone else," she says, trying to assure her girlfriend. "They all mean nothing to me, because they're not you."

"I love you."

Quinn's lips curl into a smile against warm skin. "I love you, too," she says, her voice steady, even if her breathing isn't. "I promise everything is going to be okay."

* * *

And, for the most part, everything is… relatively okay.

There's a period of adjustment as people get used to seeing Quinn in a Cheerios uniform, and seeing her walking with Santana Lopez and Rachel Berry.

It's almost unheard of, but it's apparently a thing. Quinn may be rising in popularity with every day that passes, but she's not letting go of Rachel, as much as she's being pressured to do so, from all sides: jocks and cheerleaders alike.

Also, while Finn insists on pursuing Quinn, all the blonde has to do is shoot Noah a very significant look, and the boy knows to keep the quarterback away from the new cheerleader. Noah won't admit it to anyone, but he's actually a little afraid of her.

Not only did he witness the way she went crazy on Karofsky in March, but there's also this look in her eye that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Noah thinks he's probably doing Finn a favour by getting him to stay away from the blonde.

If only the boy would listen.

* * *

Rachel is the one to rock the boat a good few weeks into the year, and Santana has to force herself _not_ to strangle her fellow brunette. She knows, if Rachel asks nicely enough, Quinn will cave, and she really _can't_ in this situation.

"But, it'll be fun," Rachel says for the umpteenth time, after Santana has tried to shut her down again. "Just think about it, the three of us, singing and dancing together."

"Oh my God," Santana says, sounding exasperated. The idea has her heart beating wildly, because it sounds like the literal _gayest_ thing she's ever heard, and she's determined to stay away from things that -

"_Please_," Rachel says, pouting and bringing out her puppy dog eyes.

"No," Santana says. "No way, Berry." Out of curiosity, she asks, "What did Quinn say when you mentioned this… _Glee Club _to her?"

Rachel huffs. "She said, if I could convince you, she would do it."

Santana cackles. "That bitch is too damn smart for her own good."

"Please."

Santana just smiles. "No fucking way, Berry."

* * *

The potential of a Glee Club starting up at school has Rachel excited beyond measure. She knows Mr Schuester from Spanish, but she's only recently learned about his exploits in show choir.

This Club could be transformative, and it could go a long way towards helping prepare her for her future Broadway career.

She just really wants to sing.

Preferably alongside her girlfriend and best friend.

Rachel has other... acquaintances at school, sure. She kind of needs to, because Quinn and Santana are usually busy with Cheerios, and Rachel is just relieved that they're all intelligent enough to be in Honours classes.

Before Quinn and before Santana, Rachel had semi-regular slushy-cleanup sessions with Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel. She wouldn't go so far as to call them friends, but there was shared trauma there.

It's how she started out with Quinn, isn't it? She imagines she could find friends there, if the two of them weren't relentless gossips. They seem to have an unnatural obsession with Quinn, and with Finn, and they're all too happy to know that Rachel is under Quinn's protection.

Rachel made herself crystal clear the first time they brought it up, making sure they knew Quinn was off limits. Especially anything to do with Lucy.

It took Quinn and Santana sitting with them for lunch one day to shut them both up, though. Her blonde was polite but firm, ensuring that the two of them knew Rachel wasn't to be messed with by anyone - even people on her same social level.

Since then, they've been kinder, and Rachel has even managed to add two freshmen to their makeshift group of students, Artie Abrahams and Tina Cohen-Chang, who is a girl she met at music camp.

She's going to convince them all to join Glee Club, she just knows it.

At this point in her school career, Rachel isn't sure where she stands regarding her social status. Technically, she's still considered a loser, but Quinn has made it very clear to all those who even think of slushying her that there will be hell to pay. The fact that Santana is in her corner really helps, but they can't be everywhere at all times.

It still happens, though, and Quinn rages like a caged animal whenever it does. While Rachel finds the look in her eyes somewhat disconcerting, Quinn has never looked more appealing to her.

It just wouldn't do to kiss her senseless in the school bathroom, now would it?

Well.

"Why are people so stupid?" Quinn rants, pacing the length of the bathroom while Rachel busies herself with cleaning the syrupy drink from her hair. "It's just so barbaric. Why is it even a thing? Which depraved human being thought it would be funny to throw a potentially harmful frozen projectile at someone's face?"

Rachel remains silent as Quinn works through her monologue, trying her best not to be charmed by the way she keeps puffing out exasperated breaths of disbelief.

She's failing.

Quinn is just so endearing when she's like this, and Rachel is so in love.

Once she's cleaned up as much as she can and changed her shirt, Rachel moves to stand in front of Quinn, where she's grown still and quiet.

"I'm okay," Rachel tells her, gently cupping her cheek. "I promise I'm okay."

"But, what about the day when you're not?" she asks, sounding almost petulant. She even pouts a little, and Rachel can't stop herself from reaching up and kissing those lips so invitingly on offer.

"My knight in shining armour," Rachel murmurs, kissing her again and again and again.

"I have to protect you," Quinn declares soberly, and Rachel realises for the first time that this might actually have very little to do with her and more to do with something else.

_Someone_ else.

"I have to protect you," Quinn repeats. "I have to pr - "

"Okay," Rachel says. "You have to protect me." She pauses. "The way you're convinced you weren't able to protect Frannie?"

Quinn flinches, and Rachel bites her bottom lip to stop herself from apologising. Sometimes, Rachel knows to push, particularly when Quinn starts to look a little lost.

A little manic.

"Rachel," Quinn whispers.

Rachel cups her cheek again, her heart aching at the shiftiness in Quinn's eyes. "It's not your job to protect me."

"It is," she immediately argues.

"The same way it's mine to protect you?"

Quinn just stares at her.

"Then, listen to me," Rachel says sternly; "What happens out there is not on you, okay? It's not your fault, and I love you for trying, but it's not on you to protect me from everything they have to throw at me."

Quinn frowns. "That's a poor choice of words," she grumbles.

"I love you."

Quinn sighs. "I won't let them hurt you," she vows.

"And, I won't let you hurt yourself."

* * *

Despite their romantic relationship, Quinn is her best friend and, when Quinn is her girlfriend, Rachel's best friend is Santana. How she ended up with two of the most... _something_ girls in school as her best friends is a mystery to not only her.

All Rachel knows is that, despite their Cheerio status, they haven't abandoned her. She can't help but feel a little slighted, though, when they have this thing in common, and she's left to her own devices.

It's one of the reasons she wants them to join Glee Club with her. It'll be something they have together, all three of them, and she's going to nag them both until one or both of them caves.

Rachel is both stubborn and determined, and she's entirely too used to getting her way.

Something's going to give, eventually.

* * *

"I don't understand why she's still making this a thing," Santana complains as she and Quinn run at the front of the pack of cheerleaders around the field for their seventh of what is going to end up being twenty laps. "I woke up to a series of texts about it. You better control your girl, Fabray."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "If you think I have any control over Rachel Berry, then you definitely haven't been paying attention," she says. "Rachel wants to join this Glee Club, and she wants us to join with her. It's as simple as that."

"Well, I want her to be a Cheerio, and where is she?" Santana immediately counters.

Quinn arches her trademark eyebrow, and Santana's steps falter, making the Latina blush when Quinn chuckles. "San," she says; "be serious."

"What?" Santana says; "don't you think Berry could cut it as a cheerleader?"

Quinn is way too serious when she says, "believe me, I know how good of a cheerleader she would be."

Santana can't resist. "Oh, yeah?"

Quinn glances at her. "My girlfriend is extremely flexible," she says and, yeah, Quinn Fabray and innuendo is dangerous.

Santana almost trips again.

"Lopez, watch those feet!" Stacey yells from somewhere behind them, and Quinn cracks up.

"Shut up, White Girl," Santana grumbles, but she's smiling.

Quinn bumps her with her shoulder, jostling them both. "Tell you what," she says; "why don't we bet on it?"

"What?"

"I'll race you to see who can finish the twenty laps the fastest," Quinn offers. "If I win, you join Glee with us. If you win, I promise I'll do what I can to get Rachel to stop bugging you about it."

Santana eyes her warily. She's almost certain she can take her. In a dead sprint, she's marginally faster, but long distance is different. And, Quinn wouldn't be making this deal if she weren't a little confident.

Still, Quinn won't let Santana live it down if she doesn't agree.

"Fine," Santana huffs.

Quinn grins at her. "We'll start when we get to that corner," she says. Then: "I look forward to singing alongside you."

Santana's snarky response is swallowed by her sudden yelp when they reach said corner, and Quinn immediately increases her pace.

Santana scrambles to catch up, and the two of them set a new, blistering pace. The Latina can vaguely hear Stacey shouting something out to them, but she's too focused on winning this stupid race so she doesn't have to join the stupid Glee Club like a total loser.

Except, well, Quinn is fast.

Or, just really smart.

All she has to do is outrun Santana, and it doesn't take long for the Latina to start slowing. Quinn uses the opportunity to slow her own pace as well, because her legs are starting to complain, and she needs to keep something in reserve for the inevitable last-ditch sprint when the end is in sight.

They've overlapped the other cheerleaders a number of times, but Quinn doesn't care that the others don't seem to be too happy with them.

Coach Sylvester is probably going to call them pansies or something.

Quinn maintains her pace at least a metre in front of Santana and, when they get to their last lap, she increases her pace only slightly.

Which, as planned, coaxes Santana into setting off.

Quinn watches the Latina overtake her with little worry. She's bound to burn out well before the finish line.

Quinn tries - she really, really does - not to look too smug when it happens, and Santana falters.

So, Quinn goes.

She's exhausted and her legs are on fire, but she has a victorious smile on her face that is particularly blinding.

As soon as she crosses the line, she doubles over to catch her breath. She has enough air left to laugh when Santana immediately collapses on the grass when she also crosses, and this has to be the best worst decision she's ever made.

"Fuck," Santana complains.

Quinn stretches her lithe body, and Santana struggles not to stare at her. The girl is stunning, and Santana hates herself for hurting her so deeply before she even allowed herself to know her.

"Fabray! Lopez!"

Santana snaps to attention, scrambling to her feet at the sound of Coach Sylvester's booming voice. "Look what you did, Q," Santana hisses.

"Shut up," Quinn shoots right back, and then stands at attention as their coach approaches. "It won't be that bad."

It's worse.

* * *

"Please tell me the rumours aren't true."

Quinn has barely enough time to turn around before Rachel is in her face, her own expression one of disbelief and... fear.

"Hello to you, too," Quinn says, smiling easily. "What's got you so worked up?"

"Don't do that," Rachel says, and her voice sounds so small. "Quinn, please tell me that you did not just oust Stacey Fieldgate as Head Cheerleader in her senior year after being on the Squad for exactly three months and four days."

Quinn's eyes widen, and then she smiles sheepishly. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds awful," she says.

"Quinn?"

"I didn't set out to oust her, if that's what you think," she says. "It just... kind of... happened."

Rachel frowns. "That's not what I heard."

"Well, do you believe everything you hear?" Quinn asks pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"No."

Quinn sighs. "Look, Rach, this is a good thing."

"How is this a good thing?"

"Well, for starters, being Head Cheerleader allows me to take better care of you."

Rachel's features immediately soften and, if they weren't standing in a busy corridor, she would probably already be kissing Quinn. "I just - I don't want you putting this kind of pressure on yourself," she says, which is a kinder way of saying _I don't think you're ready for what the position truly entails_.

"I swear I didn't mean for this to happen," Quinn says. "I didn't even think about being on the Squad, remember? But now, I kind of like it. I like the fitness it affords me, and I like the routine. I'm also exhausted all the time, which gives me little time for thinking, and I - " her voice catches. "I haven't thought about running away even once since school started, and that means something."

Rachel can't resist this time, and her hand reaches out to touch Quinn in some way, coming to rest on her forearm.

Quinn smiles softly, loving what the contact means to Rachel. "It's not going to change me," she says, knowing it's something that's bothering Rachel. "They've tried many times before, but it's not going to work, because I've got you, and I won't do anything to lose you."

Rachel sighs. "You're making it increasingly difficult for me not to kiss you."

Quinn grins at her, her eyes twinkling. "Come over later?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Rachel squeezes her arm. "I know I'm not reacting well, but I really am proud of you."

Quinn blushes, because those words mean so much more to her when they're coming from Rachel. "Did - did you know Frannie was also Head Cheerleader?"

Rachel straightens. "No, I did not."

"She was," Quinn says. "For her junior and senior years. She was... everything I wanted to be." She looks lost in thought for a moment. "For a while, at least."

Rachel isn't sure what to say, so she just goes with, "I love you."

Quinn tilts her head to the side. "You know, I wonder, sometimes, what her life would have been like if she had someone like you," she says. "I like to think she would still be here." _The way I am_, is left unsaid, but Rachel still hears it.

Quinn looks over Rachel's shoulder at where a handful of cheerleaders are standing together. The news of Quinn's appointment has been steadily trickling through the school, and she suspects she's bound to get some backlash from some of the older girls on the Squad.

She's only a Sophomore, with little experience on the actual Squad, but Quinn has something to offer that even some of the older girls can't deny.

Also, nobody would dream of going against one of Sue Sylvester's direct orders. When the woman makes a decision, people jump to follow it.

Quinn couldn't have turned down the position if she wanted to.

Which, let's face it, she really didn't want to do.

Rachel squeezes her arm again, getting her attention. "What's going on in that pretty blonde head of yours?"

Quinn shrugs. "The usual."

"Oh?"

Quinn shifts slightly. "There may or may not be some... rebellion," she says. "Against me, and possibly against you. Be careful, okay? Your emergency, emergency slushy kit is in my locker."

Rachel just nods. "I'll be on the lookout."

"I'm going to try to change things," she confesses. "I might need a weaning period to establish the new order of things, but then I'm going to put my foot down."

Rachel stares at her. "All this power," she murmurs; "it's spectacularly sexy."

Quinn laughs. "You are coming over later, right?"

Rachel nods. "Nothing could stop me."

"Good."

They stare at each other for a moment, and Rachel feels herself falling even more in love. She gets these moments sometimes, when the world just seems so unimportant, and it's just her and Quinn, the two of them taking on the world together.

"Do you want to get some lunch?" Rachel eventually asks.

"Sure," Quinn says, turning back to her locker to close it. "Lead the way."

Rachel starts walking towards the cafeteria, and Quinn falls into step beside her.

"Oh," Quinn suddenly says. "By the way, I managed to get Santana to agree to join Glee."

Rachel lets out an excited squeal, bringing them to a stop and turning to face Quinn. "How on earth did you manage that?"

Quinn drops her gaze. "It's kind of the reason we both got promoted," she confesses.

"Both?"

"Oh, yeah, Santana made Vice Captain."

Rachel looks skyward. "Heaven help us all."

* * *

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Santana grumbles. "We're totally going to be losers, who just made it to the top of the pyramid, and now you've got us singing fucking showtunes."

"San."

"I hate you."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "You love me," she teases, and the words hit a little too close to home for Santana, so she just looks away.

This isn't normal.

Whatever it is.

Santana knows she's different to other girls. It's been that way for a while, and she's starting to realise it's no longer something she can hide from.

If her two best friends are willing to accept each other and their own relationship, then Santana wants to, as well.

Just, preferably without revealing some of her pesky feelings about a certain blonde that don't seem to want to go away.

"Hah," Quinn says when they get to the auditorium for what are going to be the Glee auditions. "Look at this turnout."

Santana scoffs. There are only seven people already in attendance, and one of them is Rachel.

Quinn recognises Mercedes, Artie and Kurt, and she vaguely recalls seeing the Asian girl around. She believes her name is Tina.

Then there's Mike.

And another cheerleader.

"Is that Brittany?" Quinn finds herself asking, but Santana doesn't respond.

It _is_ Brittany, and it feels like she's seeing the girl for the first time.

Also, the Latina is suddenly sure she has a thing for blondes.

Or, just blonde cheerleaders.

Santana suddenly grips at Quinn's forearm, her nails digging into pale skin.

"San," Quinn hisses. "What the hell?"

Santana makes a strangled noise in her throat, because there's no way she can avoid and suppress this now.

Before either of them can speak, Rachel is bounding up to them, a beaming smile on her face. "You came," she says, and she looks a mixture of disbelieving and impressed.

"I told you we would," Quinn says, smiling at her. "The turnout is quite good."

Rachel nods. "Maybe, after people find out you and San are here, we'll get more."

"I wouldn't hold my breath, Berry," Santana grumbles, having barely recovered.

Rachel regards her closely, and then steps into her space. "Are you okay?" she asks softly enough that only Quinn can hear, even though she pretends she isn't listening.

The three of them have different kinds of relationships whenever they're in their respective pairs, and they've all made the silent, mutual decision to respect them.

"No," Santana says, shifting awkwardly. "Can we talk later?"

"Okay." Rachel gives her a reassuring smile, and then reaches for both cheerleaders' hands to drag them further into the auditorium.

Quinn squeezes her fingers, and absently places her other hand on Santana's shoulder. These are two of the most important relationships in her life, and she's holding onto both of them as tightly as possible.

"Let's get this over with," Santana says.

"That is not the right attitude, Santana," she says primly. "I hope you practiced your audition song."

"Yeah, yeah," Santana says; "Q and I are totally going to rock this shit."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I don't even know how I get myself into these situations," she mutters.

Rachel squeezes her fingers, and then leans in to whisper, "I promise to make it worth your while."

Quinn sucks in a sharp breath. "Jesus."

Rachel turns to wink at her, and Quinn knows, without a doubt, that she's made all the right decisions in her life to get her to this point.

"I love you," she whispers, which are words that she doesn't say all that often when it's not just the two of them.

So, when she does, Rachel knows to pay attention.

Rachel's reply is automatic, though she doesn't miss the way Santana flinches when she says, "I love you, too."

* * *

"How did you get Mike to agree to audition?" Rachel asks, leaning in to Quinn as they sit side-by-side and wait for Mercedes to leave the stage after her audition.

Santana is waiting in the wings for her turn - Mr Schuester didn't allow them to audition in pairs - and Rachel is both excited and nervous.

"I'm very talented," Quinn says.

"I got that," Rachel murmurs. "You were amazing up there."

Quinn glances at her. "You're totally turned on right now, aren't you?"

Rachel risks touching her thigh, squeezing gently. "You know what hearing you sing does to me," she murmurs.

Quinn places her hand over hers. "Does this mean you're going to be turned on every time we're in Glee?"

Rachel's eyes widen.

Quinn chuckles softly. "I'm so glad we're doing this."

Rachel huffs. "I really have the worst ideas, don't I?"

Quinn links their fingers together. "Santana's up," she says.

"We should totally record this."

Quinn smiles widely. "She'll kill us both."

Rachel shrugs, and then says, "Do it, anyway."

* * *

Quinn leaves immediately after Mr Schuester dismisses them, silently allowing Santana and Rachel to linger in the auditorium together when it empties of all other students.

Rachel knows she'll speak to Quinn later, anyway. Right now, Santana looks as if she needs a friend, and that's what Rachel is.

As much as it pains her, Rachel knows she has to let Santana be the one to start them talking. Whatever it is seems important and... difficult, and Rachel is going to have to be patient. It's not really her strong suit, if she's being honest with herself, but it's what Santana obviously needs.

She doesn't have to wait all that long.

"Do you like girls?" Santana blurts out; "or, is it just Quinn?"

Rachel blinks repeatedly, definitely not expecting that. "Uh."

Santana looks undeterred. "Like, do you find other girls attractive? Is that like... a thing? Does that make you gay?"

Rachel raises a hand to stop Santana's barrage of questions, and the Latina snaps her mouth shut. "I'm not entirely sure what this has to do with anything," she starts; "but, yes, I like girls. I find them attractive."

Santana sucks in a breath. "But, not boys?"

"I like boys, too," she answers. "I'm not a fan of labels, but I would probably classify as a bisexual. At this point in my life, I'm both attracted to and in love with a girl and, while I hope my relationship with Quinn doesn't ever change, I _can_ possibly see myself feeling the same for a boy."

Santana looks away, her shoulders slumping. "I... can't."

Rachel's eyes widen slightly. "Oh."

Santana can't bear to look at her. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I'm processing."

"Process faster."

Rachel risks a smile as she reaches for one of Santana's hands. "It's okay, you know," she says. "It's normal."

"Not quite, Berry."

"Well, it's not _ab_normal," she says. "Just, you know, less common."

Santana shakes her head. "Do you ever wonder if we're too young to know for sure?"

"Sometimes," Rachel admits. "But, I know, deep in my heart, that I love Quinn. I _love_ her, and I don't care how old I am, because what I feel has to be real. It has to be, because there's no other explanation for the way my heartbeat rises when I'm with her, or the way her smile just makes everything better. It has to be exactly what I know it is."

Santana attempts to take her hand back, because it's suddenly all too much - the guilt and the fear and the confusion - and it's the moment Rachel just _knows_.

"Oh."

Santana winces. "I'm sorry."

Rachel allows her to sever the contact, unsure what to say. While she's sure she already knows, she still has to ask the question. "You love Quinn too, don't you?"

The fact that Santana can't answer the question speaks volumes.

"It's why you've always been so interested in her, even when you didn't realise it," Rachel continues, looking bewildered. "God, it's probably also why you started picking on Lucy in the first place, isn't it?"

Santana is surprised by the lack of anger or accusation in Rachel's voice, but it doesn't quell her desire to run somewhere far away and forget this conversation is even happening. "I - I don't know," Santana finally says, her voice shaky. "I don't know anything, and I - I'm sorry."

Rachel reaches for her hand again, anchoring her. "Please don't apologise," she says. "When you're ready, I'll probably make a joke about how Quinn forces most people she meets to question his or her sexuality, but we can postpone that for when this isn't a vulnerable moment."

Despite herself, Santana actually laughs. "You're something else, Rachel Berry."

Rachel smiles reassuringly at her. "It's going to be okay, you know?"

"You can't know that."

"Of course, I can," she says. "I get that it's scary, and it's this entire thing about you that will probably make life that bit more difficult, but I can honestly say that I feel better now that I've accepted it about myself, and you will, too."

Santana shakes her head. "My family will kill me."

"Maybe that's something you can talk to Quinn about," Rachel offers. "She hasn't got around to telling her parents and, frankly, I don't think she's going to for a very long time."

"And you would be okay with that?"

"Quinn's family is important to her, and I respect her decision to - "

"No," Santana interrupts; "would you be okay with my talking to Quinn? After everything you now know?"

Rachel squeezes her fingers. "Yes, Santana," she says. "I trust you, and I trust Quinn. She can help you where I can't."

"But - "

Rachel shakes her head. "Stop it," she says. "You're one of our best friends, and we're always going to do whatever we can to help you and make sure you're all right and happy, okay?"

Santana feels as if she's about to cry. "Why aren't you mad?"

"Honestly, San, I'm trying not to think about it too hard," she says softly. "If I focus on the fact that you're struggling to come to terms with your sexuality, then I can almost forget the role my girlfriend may or may not have played in getting you to this point."

"I would never do anything," Santana assures her. "I mean, I don't even know for sure. I thought that having sex with Puck would fix everything, but it just made it worse. I hated every second of it, and all I could think about was how wrong it felt.

"But, I mean, if it's wrong with a boy; that doesn't mean it's automatically right with a girl, right? I can't really know, because I've never even kissed a girl. What if I'm, like, asexual or something? Pansexual? Is that it?"

Rachel takes a deep breath, realising she's entirely out of her depth. There's only so much she can help Santana with, because she doesn't know much beyond her own situation. Of course, she's read ACLU pamphlets and booklets, but this is all unchartered territory.

Rachel squeezes her fingers. "Do you want to talk to my dads about this?" she asks. "I just - I don't know the answers, San, and they should be able to help."

Santana looks frightened for a moment, but then she relaxes. "They wouldn't tell anyone, right?"

"Not a soul," she assures. "They haven't breathed a word about me or Quinn, and I trust them the most in the world. They've helped me, and they've helped Quinn. Let them help you, too."

Santana just nods.

Rachel draws her into a hug, wrapping her arms around tense shoulders. "It's going to be okay," she says. "I promise it's all going to be okay."

Santana sighs sadly. "Please don't make promises you can't keep."

Rachel huffs out a breath. "Watch me."

* * *

They don't waste any time.

Rachel invites Santana over for dinner that very night, sending a quick text to Quinn letting her know that everything is fine, but they're just dealing with something.

Rachel loves that Quinn respects her friendship with Santana enough only to ask if they're both okay, and that's it. Rachel assures her they are - at least, she thinks they are - and then tells Quinn she loves her... three times.

There's a part of Rachel that worries that, if Quinn were to learn of Santana's feelings for her, then she would lose her to the Latina. It's one thing to have to deal with all the boys who are vying for Quinn's attention, but neither of them have considered what would happen if a girl showed interest.

At this point, Quinn hasn't explicitly said if she's gay or not. Is the reason she rebuffs other people's advances because they're boys? Rachel is a girl. What if there was a _better_ girl? Someone prettier and smarter and less of a loser? What would happen then?

Quinn sends a long reply after dinner, which Rachel sees only when she goes upstairs to her bedroom and leaves Santana with her fathers. She warned them both that Santana had something she wanted to talk to them about, and they were eager to help.

Rachel knows she's lucky. She has a great family, and she has great friends.

She also has Quinn, who has this to say, even when she doesn't even know what's really going on:

_My mom and I baked a pie tonight. I think she was just surprised I was home as early as I was, because we usually work on our homework at your house after school. It was nice. A little awkward at first, but it was actually pleasant. I told her about Glee. She asked me if it's something I enjoy. She wants me to do things I enjoy, and I now get why she hasn't pushed me into one thing or the other. She was a little scared of my becoming a cheerleader, with good reason, but I think she sees that it makes me happy._

_Like you do._

_I know, sometimes, I don't say it or show it enough, but you make me as happy as I allow myself to be. I love you, and I want you to know how important you are to me. Beyond being my girlfriend, you're my best friend, and nothing - NOTHING - is going to change that or come between us, okay? I know you worry and I know there are things you're insecure about, but I promise I'm yours and you're mine, and we're going to figure out all the rest of it as we get older. Together._

_Always, together._

_You and me, Rachel Berry._

_I can't make promises because my therapist told me not to put that kind of pressure on myself, but this I vow to you: I love you, even when I'm feeling a little lost. I love you, even when I need to be alone. I love you, even when we're in the same room, but I'm somewhere else. I love you, even though you totally bugged me into submission about Glee. I love you, I love you, I love you._

_I know we're still young and we have a lot of life still to live, but I know I want to spend it with you. I don't know if that sounds scary to you - sorry, not sorry - but it's the truth. It's MY truth, and I'll tell it to you whenever you need to hear it. Every day, if required. You claim it's not my job to protect you, but it is to reassure you, and I will happily do that until my last dying breath._

_Wow, okay, that got serious really quickly._

_Just, you know, I love you, and that's that about that._

* * *

Rachel is still texting Quinn when there's a knock at her door, and she sits up on her bed when Santana slips inside the room, her eyes puffy and red.

Rachel immediately sets her phone on the bed. "They made you cry?" she asks incredulously. "Why, I ought to - "

"Berry," Santana interrupts, a small smile on her face. "It's okay. They're not bad tears."

"That doesn't mean they're good ones," Rachel counters, shifting to sit on the edge of her bed. "Are you okay?"

Santana hesitates, and then says, "I'm better." She sits next to Rachel. "You're lucky," she says. "My parents won't understand."

"They might," Rachel offers softly. "They could surprise you. It's different when it's your own kid."

"Is that what you tell Quinn?"

"I think we both know telling Quinn anything is pointless," she says, almost rolling her eyes.

Santana shifts slightly. "Speaking of Quinn," she says. "Are you going to tell her about me?"

"No."

Santana's eyebrows shoot up. "You're not?"

"I wouldn't," Rachel assures her. "I know we're those couples that tell each other next to everything, but this isn't my thing to tell her. If you want to tell her, you should tell her. If you don't, then nobody is going to make you."

Santana sighs. "I don't even know how I survived my entire freshman year without you two."

"I think you did all right."

"I was a bitch."

"And, that's precisely why I said 'all right' and not 'great.'"

Santana laughs softly, bumping the other girl with her shoulder. They descend into comfortable silence, and Santana uses it to work up the courage to say, "I'm going to tell her."

"What, exactly?"

"That I - I like, uh, girls," she stammers, slightly irritated with herself that she can't even get the words out clearly.

"And, the other thing?" Rachel asks cautiously.

Santana presses her lips together. "How do you think she'll take it?"

"I honestly have no idea," Rachel admits. "One can never predict what Quinn Fabray will do."

"How would you feel if she knew?"

Rachel suddenly can't look at her, her heart leaping into her throat. "Is it horrible of me to say I don't want her to know?"

Santana blinks in surprise. "Why?"

Rachel's voice drops to a whisper. "While I don't think she would ever cheat on me, it's not wildly unfathomable that she would leave me for someone - "

"Berry," Santana hisses, staring at her with incredulous eyes. "That - why - don't even - " Santana doesn't even know what to say.

"Come on, Santana," Rachel says. "You've seen Quinn. She's special in ways we don't even understand. I'm just, you know, me. A loser. There are prettier girls, and if she - "

"Shut up."

Rachel's mouth snaps shut.

"Just, stop talking," Santana instructs as she rubs her temple. "All you're saying is nonsense, anyway."

Rachel sighs. She can read and hear Quinn's words over and over, but, like Quinn, Rachel has her own issues with which to deal, and learning that one of the most popular girls in school has feelings for her girlfriend definitely isn't going to help.

"Quinn loves you," Santana says, and it sounds as if it pains her to say the words. "You should hear how she talks about you when you're not around. It's obvious to anyone paying attention that you're the only person on her mind. She loves you, believe me."

Rachel isn't sure what to say.

"Nobody even stands a chance," Santana says. "Least of all me." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry I've made this so weird."

"It's not your fault," she says, and then smiles. "Really, if anyone's to blame, it's Quinn."

Santana smiles back at her. "We're okay, right?"

Rachel nods. "We're okay," she confirms.

She has a feeling they might always be.

Eventually, at least.

* * *

Surprisingly, Quinn takes it well.

Too well, really.

Santana is a nervous wreck the entire time the two of them are talking after Cheerios practice, but Quinn is as stoic as ever, listening intently.

Then, she says, "Okay."

Santana frowns. "That's it?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "What were you expecting?"

Santana sputters. "I don't know," she says, waving a hand. "I just told you I'm - I'm g-gay, and all you have to say is 'okay?' Is that really it?"

Quinn just smiles at her, this soft, knowing thing, and then says, "I'm proud of you."

Santana's traitorous heart jumps in her chest.

"It's not an easy thing to admit, and I'm happy for you." She places a gentle hand on Santana's shoulder, and Santana is mortified when her body automatically leans into the touch.

Quinn isn't particularly affectionate, by any means, and Santana doesn't usually enjoy being touched unnecessarily, but these are moments the Latina holds onto.

It's dangerous.

So, so dangerous.

Quinn, thankfully, doesn't seem to notice as she takes her hand back. She's calm and collected, a tiny glint of mischief in her eye as she smiles warmly at her friend. "So," Quinn says, "what are we doing for your birthday?"

* * *

Nothing, apparently.

"I don't understand," Noah says, looking all for the world as if someone just killed his puppy. "What do you mean you're not having a party?"

"I mean exactly that," Santana says, carefully exchanging her books in her locker for her next lesson.

"But - " He looks distraught. "But, you always throw your party this time of the year. It doubles as the best Halloween party of the year."

Santana looks at him. "Puck," she says. "You are free to throw your own party; nobody's stopping you."

"I don't get you, Lopez," he says. "You've changed."

She rolls her eyes at him. "You make it sound as if it's a bad thing."

* * *

"We can have a Glee party," Rachel declares, sitting in the choir room between Quinn and Santana. It wasn't a conscious thing, but she gets the feeling Santana makes sure it happens to ease both their minds.

The entire thing is kind of awful if she really thinks about it... which is something she's trying not to do. She didn't notice it before, but Santana does look at Quinn a little too much and a little too long.

Rachel understands - of course, she does - but it's still unsettling.

"We can use it to bond," Rachel continues. "We're going to have to get to know each other better if we're all going to compete like a team."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Okay, Captain Berry," she says, playfully saluting.

Quinn giggles on her other side, and Rachel shoots her a wounded look.

"Et tu, Fabray?"

Quinn's smile grows. "You're cute when you get all worked up," she whispers, leaning into Rachel slightly.

Rachel feels heat rise up her neck, and she forces herself not to look at Santana. It's moments like these that she wishes Quinn did know about Santana's feelings; just so she wouldn't say things that could potentially hurt their friend.

Rachel suspects not much can hurt more than seeing the person you have feelings for be with someone else, and that's a kind of pain she doesn't want for anyone she cares about.

Eventually, Rachel does look at Santana, who has her own attention on something happening across the room. She follows the Latina's line of sight to where Mike and Brittany seem to be working on some kind of complicated dance step.

Santana is obviously watching Brittany, and Rachel can't stop her smile if she tries.

"Then, it's decided," Rachel declares. "We're having a Glee party at your house this Saturday."


	3. Beginning of a Bad Idea

**Part Three**

**Beginning of a Bad Idea**

* * *

What Rachel doesn't anticipate is the extra members Glee manages to get in the few days leading up to said party.

Matt Rutherford, she can deal with. She likes him, and he helps bring out a side of Mike that's open and humorous. Also, the boy can dance.

Finn Hudson, well, she definitely can't deal with. Mr Schuester looks immensely pleased with himself when he introduces the star quarterback to the group, and it's not lost on anyone that the tall boy's eyes are trained on Quinn.

And, then, there's Noah Puckerman, who just confuses Rachel. He acts all tough and uncaring at times, and then acts like a soft, little boy at others. She gets whiplash from it.

So, yes, having all these personalities in one place for an extended period of time is probably going to end in disaster.

Rachel really does have the worst ideas.

* * *

"Are we the kind of friends that can ask each other to punch people for them?"

Santana laughs into her cup at the sound of Rachel's question. "Hudson, huh?"

"He's not even being subtle about his leering," Rachel complains. Then, because she can't resist, she says, "and, well, neither are you."

Santana snaps to attention, her eyes on Rachel's face. "What?"

"Brittany is very pretty."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Rachel just pats her forearm. "You should talk to her, you know," she suggests.

Santana rolls her eyes. "I don't know about that."

"You totally should," she says. "Or, you know, take her out in your brand new car."

"You're so jealous, aren't you?"

Rachel pouts. "You're sixteen now. You don't have to take the bus anymore."

"Well, neither do you, you know," she says. "I won't let my friends have to suffer the indignity of the bus without me."

"How generous," she deadpans, and then smiles when Santana's eyes track Brittany's movement again. "It's okay, you know."

"What?"

"Talking to her," Rachel offers, and then smiles when Santana's eyes flash with panic. "But, there's absolutely no pressure anywhere, okay?"

"And, here I was thinking you were going to engineer some convoluted game of Spin the Bottle to get me my first girl kiss," she jokes, and Rachel's eyes light up. "No," Santana suddenly says, her own eyes widening. "I wasn't giving you an idea."

Rachel is already walking away and saying, "Guys, I have an idea!"

* * *

She'll never learn, will she?

Rachel has the worst ideas. Terrible ones, really, and none as bad as agreeing to let a room full of hormonal boys attempt to get the bottle to land on her girlfriend.

How does she come up with these things?

Nobody's really drunk. Noah brought enough booze to get a buzz going for those who are indulging - Quinn and Rachel are staying away from the stuff - and they're working themselves towards substantial inebriation.

It's okay, Rachel thinks. It's okay.

Well, it's not, but Rachel doesn't allow herself to think too hard about that until Finn Hudson spins the bottle and it lands on her. She sucks in a sharp breath, and feels Quinn tense at her side.

Why did this ever seem like a good idea?

Rachel feels Quinn's hand rest lightly on her back, encouraging and accepting. For the most part, Rachel doesn't not like Finn. If she's being honest, if she weren't with Quinn, she thinks she would probably have a crush on the boy.

He's 'leading man' material and popular. If Rachel were more... something, she would probably be pursuing him, especially now he's part of Glee Club.

But, well, Rachel has Quinn.

And, really, Finn doesn't compare at all to her blonde girlfriend, particularly in the kissing department. It's over so quickly, and Finn is scrambling away and muttering something under his breath.

Rachel looks curiously at Quinn, who shrugs, even though her eyes are dark.

Beside Finn, it's Puck's turn to spin, and Rachel finds herself holding her breath until it lands on Brittany. He grins manically, and Brittany is all too willing to kiss him - well, make out with him, really, because it takes Matt's intervention to get them to stop.

Kurt And Mike share the chastest of pecks.

Mercedes and Matt create a little heat.

Tina gets accosted by Brittany, who Rachel is coming to note is very affectionate.

Then it's Quinn, who spins and lands on Rachel. Santana lets out a snicker, and Quinn laughs under her breath.

All Rachel does is turn her head, and Quinn's mouth is already there. The kiss is quick, just a brushing of familiar lips, and then it's over. Rachel wants more - she always wants more - but she recognises now isn't the time or place.

"Spin," Santana instructs Rachel after a moment, and the brunette does, landing on Mike. She lets out a small breath of relief, and then scampers across the room to smack a loud kiss on the unsuspecting boy.

He just laughs, making a show of wiping at his mouth. "You slobbered all over me."

"You liked it," she teases, not missing the nervous glance he casts Quinn's way. She doesn't think the boy knows for certain about their relationship, but Rachel is Quinn's, in every single way, and Mike knows that.

Rachel pats his knee. "It's okay," she whispers, and then heads back to her seat next to Quinn.

Santana clears her throat, and then spins the bottle next. If all goes to plan, it should land on a girl and, maybe, the Latina will get some form of confirmation.

What Rachel doesn't expect is the bottle looking as if it's going to land on Quinn and, well, that can't happen.

It really, really can't.

So, Rachel, ever the actress, fakes a hard sneeze that sees her foot hit the table, and the bottle lands on... Brittany.

Hah.

Santana shoots her a glare, but she doesn't have time to say anything before Brittany is suddenly in her lap with her tongue down the brunette's throat.

"Whoa," Noah says.

"Holy," Matt mumbles.

Finn almost falls out of his chair.

Quinn lets out a laugh at Rachel's ear. "You're a sneaky little thing, aren't you?"

Rachel puffs out her chest, feeling smug. "I have the best ideas."

Quinn nuzzles her ear for a beat, and then proceeds to break up the impromptu make-out session.

Santana exchanges a wide-eyed, bewildered look with Rachel and, yeah, she really has the best ideas.

* * *

What comes out of their bonding experience is a borderline inseparable Santana and Brittany.

Rachel reasons the Latina is doing all she can to forget about Quinn, which is difficult to do when you spend all your time with the girl. Though, Rachel can tell she has genuine affection for Brittany, even though she's probably struggling with it, but Rachel thinks it's only a matter of time.

The other thing is that Tina and Artie are now dating. It's probably a result of the kiss they shared, and Rachel is so chuffed at her matchmaking abilities.

What she doesn't expect, though, is this:

"Hey, Rach?"

Rachel, for the most part, is friendly to a fault. She smiles easily and offers parts of herself to nearly everyone. It's in such contrast to Quinn, who is a master at hiding herself.

Rachel's talent translates into her performances and, now that Mr Schuester has identified her and Finn as his leads, they've been singing a few duets together, to get ready for Sectionals.

Despite her talents, as it were, Rachel has to force a smile onto her face as she stands at her locker. "Hello, Finn," she says as politely as she can.

He smiles dopily at her. "So, uh, I was wondering if you, umm, wanted to go out with me this Saturday?"

And, as good as an actress she is, Rachel can't keep the surprise off her face. "You want to go out with me?" she asks, because she needs to be sure she's not imagining this.

"Well, yeah."

She blinks. "But, why?"

Finn looks momentarily stumped, and then he shrugs. "It makes sense, doesn't it? We're both co-captains of Glee, the two leads, you know?" He smiles hopefully. "And, I mean, we kissed." He pauses. "Didn't you like it?"

Rachel really doesn't know how to respond to any of this. She's just so thrown by the mere idea that Finn Hudson, star quarterback and most popular boy in school, suddenly wants to date her. It's completely unheard of, and she can't stop herself from thinking about what her life would be like if -

"So, I'll pick you up at seven?" Finn questions.

Rachel doesn't answer, too much in a daze.

"Awesome," he says with a grin, pumping his fist in the air. "See you in Glee."

It isn't until the boy is gone from sight that Rachel clues in to what she's just done.

The worst ideas.

She has the absolute worst ideas.

* * *

"Santana!" Rachel hisses, grabbing hold of the Latina's wrist and dragging her into an empty classroom.

"Jesus, Berry, if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask," she complains, somewhat saucily.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Santana," she says, beginning to pace. "I may or may not have done something."

Santana raises her eyebrows. "What?"

Rachel swallows audibly. "You're going to be mad."

And, as predicted, Santana is. She rants and raves, and looks genuinely hurt, which is a surprise to Rachel, but she's more concerned about how she's supposed to get out of it without Quinn finding out.

Which, in hindsight, is a pointless endeavour, because Quinn Fabray is the Head Cheerleader and, when the star quarterback asks out her best friend, a known loser, Quinn is going to hear about it.

As a result, Rachel isn't sure which Quinn she's going to get in Glee.

Which, again, is a pointless worry, when said girl doesn't even attend the meeting. Rachel finds out from Tina that Quinn went 'a little crazy' on a freshman Cheerio for throwing a slushy at Artie, and both girls had to see Principal Figgins with Coach Sylvester.

Rachel knows the incident isn't anything particularly out of the blue - Quinn has slowly been trying to rid the school of its tendency towards the Big Gulp - but the timing is still suspect.

It's almost as if she planned it so she wouldn't be in Glee.

Because she didn't want to see Rachel.

* * *

Well, Quinn can try to hide as much as she wants to, but Rachel really won't let her. Even though Rachel knows the absolute last thing Quinn wants is to see her, she still gets Santana to drop her off in front of the Fabray house after Glee lets out.

"Dude," Santana says.

"I know," Rachel mumbles, and then goes to meet her fate. She was forced to make it clear to Finn that she actually didn't agree to going on a date with him, and he should learn to wait for verbal responses before merely assuming things.

Of course, the boy looked puzzled until Noah clapped him on the back and said, "She's not into you, bro."

Rachel thinks she has another problem on her hands when it comes to the perplexed and then determined look Finn was sporting. If he intends to pursue her as hard as he did Quinn - as if that isn't messed up enough - then Rachel is in for it.

But, first, she needs to see Quinn and assure her that, well, Rachel is -

Truthfully, Rachel doesn't know what she's going to say. The part that makes this worse is that Rachel spent a moment really considering it. She allowed herself to imagine how different - how much better - her life might end up being if she publicly dated the star quarterback.

If she wasn't dating the Head Cheerleader in secret.

It would be so much easier in so many ways. Surely, she would be afforded the ultimate protection, and she wouldn't be a loser anymore. She wouldn't have to worry about the potential backlash of being in a same-sex relationship, particularly coming from a same-sex family.

Her life would be much simpler.

Only, she doesn't think she would be happy at all. A life without Quinn isn't even something she should be entertaining, and she hates herself just a bit for ever wanting anything different.

What would happen to Quinn then?

Rachel sucks in a breath.

This is the first time she's felt the full weight of what it would mean not to be with Quinn. For Rachel, she thinks she could probably survive a breakup, but -

What about Quinn?

Rachel's steps falter before she reaches the front door, and her breathing grows ragged. God. How would Quinn handle it if Rachel were ever to end it?

_Would_ she handle it?

Quinn already struggles not to run when she's with her, so what would happen if Quinn didn't have her?

Suddenly, Rachel can't go inside. Her heart is beating so fast, and she drops down onto the front steps to try to calm herself.

What _would_ Quinn do?

Would she run?

Rachel knows the answer before she's even finished thinking the question. Quinn has even alluded to it before. Rachel is important to her; Rachel is a reason she's still here.

What would Rachel be condemning them both to, if ever this relationship didn't work out?

* * *

Rachel is still sitting out front when Russell Fabray gets home from work, and they're both surprised by the other's presence.

She looks caught off guard, and his eyes are wide.

It's not the first time they've interacted; it's just that they avoid it as much as possible. He's an imposing figure, and he's always been wary of her, because he has a feeling she's the one thing holding his family together.

Holding his daughter together.

"Miss Berry," he greets politely. "Pardon my asking the obvious, but what exactly are you doing sitting out here?"

Rachel stares at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, and then says, "I'm in love with your daughter."

Russell tenses, and then instantly deflates. He moves to sit beside her, his body suddenly heavy. "I know," he eventually says.

"You do?"

"I do," he confirms. "As good as you two are at hiding it, I've learned to look for the signs in Quinn that I missed in Frannie. I've seen the way she is when she's with you, or when she's just seen or talked to you."

Rachel audibly swallows. "What if - "

"What if what?"

"What if I can't be what she needs?"

Russell pats her shoulder. "All you have to be is you," he says. "I've learned a lot from losing Frannie, and the one thing that will always stay with me is that my children don't have to change. They're exactly who they're meant to be, and so are you."

"What happens to Quinn if - if I can't be the person to save her?"

"Only Quinn can save herself," he says sadly. "We can help, and we can be there, but this is all on Quinn, okay? This is no kind of pressure for a fifteen year old girl, and I know it's not something Quinn wants for you."

"I think she worries I'll leave her if she shows too much of her darkness to me."

"She worries about that with us, as well," Russell says tiredly. "It's not something that's just going to go away."

Rachel nods slowly. "You don't sound mad," she points out.

"I'm not."

"She's terrified of telling you."

"I imagine she would be," he says, his voice beyond defeated. "Before Frannie came home from Harvard, I probably would have reacted very differently."

"What changed?"

"I won't lose my daughter, Miss Berry," he says. "I already know the pain of outliving one child, and I won't do anything to lose another, in any way. While it may take me a while to accept her choices, she's all I have, and I'm not letting go. Not this time."

Rachel surprises them both by reaching for his closest hand and squeezing it between both of her own. "She's lucky to have you," she says.

He chuckles lowly. "I can say the same for you, dear."

* * *

"We have a guest for dinner," Russell declares as he steps through the front door, closely followed by a silent Rachel.

Quinn is sprawled out on the couch, freshly showered and looking as adorable as Rachel has ever seen her in her lamb onesie. She takes a moment to register the presence behind her father, and then she bolts upright, eyes wide behind her glasses.

Russell smiles at Quinn. "No hug for Dad?"

Quinn scrambles to her feet and then throws herself at him, soaking up some sort of comfort after her rollercoaster of a day.

Russell releases her first. "Mom says you got into a fight," he says.

Quinn blushes. "It wasn't really a fight," she counters.

"Still," he says; "I thought we talked about this."

Quinn ducks her head. "We did."

Russell kisses the top of her head. "Just be more careful, okay?"

"Okay."

He lifts her chin with a forefinger. "I think someone wants to talk to you."

Quinn sighs. "It appears so."

"I'll be in the kitchen," he says quietly, and then leaves the two girls in the living room.

Quinn doesn't say anything, and Rachel knows she's going to have to be the first one to speak. She had her speech all planned out but, after her own emotional day, all she really wants is to be in her girlfriend's arms and forget everything.

"I'm sorry," Rachel starts, and then does the one thing she swore she wouldn't do and bursts into tears. She starts to shake her head harshly when she sees Quinn step forward, arms already outstretched to draw her into a comforting embrace. She's convinced she doesn't deserve it. "I'm sorry," she says again. "Quinn, I'm so sorry."

Quinn frowns. "For what exactly?"

Rachel hesitantly meets her gaze. "You don't know?"

"I don't know what?"

"Quinn."

"Rachel."

"Your dad knows about us."

Quinn's head snaps up, her back going ramrod straight. "What?"

Rachel's hand covers her mouth immediately.

Quinn steps forward, panic seeping into her features. "Did - did you just say my dad knows about us? As in he knows we're, you know?"

All Rachel can really do is nod her head. "He knows, and he's okay with it, and I'm sorry about Finn. I didn't even know what was happening. He just asked and I froze, and I made it clear to him that I'm not interested after Glee, and I'm sorry. I love you. Please can you hug me now."

Quinn looks bewildered for a moment, but then she steps forward and wraps Rachel in a tight hug that helps them both settle their raging emotions.

God, it's so hard being a teenage girl.

"I hear you're staying for dinner," Quinn whispers into Rachel's hair.

"It appears so."

"Is this going to be an official 'meet the parents' dinner?" Quinn asks. "I mean, if you're my girlfriend and my parents know; that kind of changes things, doesn't it?"

Rachel grumbles under her breath, and then says, "You're supposed to be making me feel better."

"I thought _you_ were here to make _me_ feel better," Quinn points out.

Rachel shifts back slightly, so she can look at Quinn's face. "I missed you," she says. "Glee isn't nearly as fun without you and Santana bickering next to me like the special children you are."

Quinn is silent for a moment, just enjoying the embrace. "I got into trouble for cussing out a freshman Cheerio," she explains carefully. "I made myself expressly clear that slushies would no longer be a thing in my school, and she disobeyed a direct order. Coach almost took her off the Squad, but I was able to get her another chance."

"Tina said it was Artie?"

"How messed up is that?" Quinn says through her teeth, and her body tenses for a moment. "Like, why? Just, why?"

Rachel kisses her cheek in an attempt to calm her. Quinn doesn't get... mad, but she does get this. It's as if she skips to rage and, if they're not careful, she leaps all the way to silence, which is so much worse.

Quinn breathes out slowly, and she almost hates herself for the hint of desperation in her tone. "Tell me you're mine," she says.

"I'm yours."

"Tell me you'll never leave me."

"I'll never go, Quinn," she says with minimal hesitancy. "I'm right here, and I'm with you. I love you, and you're stuck with me for forever."

Quinn just hugs her tightly again, closing her eyes to the world and attempting to put this entire day behind them. "I love you, too," she says.

They just hold each other in silence, until Russell calls out from the kitchen that dinner's ready.

"I should text my dads and let them know where I am."

"I should make sure there's actually something vegan for you to eat."

They share a quick kiss, and then go separate ways.

Quinn can't quite contain her nerves as she hesitantly walks into the kitchen. She's not sure what to make of her father knowing about her relationship with Rachel, and she doesn't know if she's supposed to be the one to bring it up.

She's still working on wrapping her own head around it.

A lot has happened today.

"Where's Rachel?" Judy asks, setting a fourth place at the kitchen table.

"Just letting her parents know she's staying," Quinn explains slowly. She knows her own parents are aware of Rachel's parentage, but it's not something they talk about.

Russell hums softly. Then, he surprises both Judy and Quinn by saying, "We should invite them over for dinner one of these nights."

Judy stares at him wide-eyed, and Quinn freezes in place. She does, however, recover quickly, and she's just thrown her arms around her father's neck when Rachel comes into the kitchen.

Rachel pauses at the scene before her, and then smiles to herself.

Maybe everything will turn out okay, after all.

* * *

"Berry?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Rachel looks away from where she's exchanging her books in her locker to look at Santana, who looks uncharacteristically nervous about something. "What's wrong?" she asks, furrowing her brow.

"I have a problem."

"Oh?"

Santana glances nervously around her. "It's about, well, lesbian sex."

Rachel chokes on air, suddenly coughing violently as she doubles over. "What the hell, Santana?" she hisses once she's recovered, barely. "Why on earth would you be asking _me_ about that?"

Santana looks thrown for a moment. "You mean you and Quinn haven't...?" she trails off.

"Of course not."

Santana looks utterly perplexed now. "Oh?"

"Why?" Rachel asks, suddenly anxious. "Has Quinn said something about it?"

"No," Santana hastily says. "You know Quinn is too much of a prude for that kind of thing." She sounds affectionate when she says it, so Rachel doesn't choose to defend her girlfriend. "I just assumed."

"But, why?"

"Sometimes, you look at each other with this intensity that, I guess, screams of physical intimacy."

Rachel shifts awkwardly. "Uh, okay," she mumbles. "Well, we haven't," she says. "I get the feeling Quinn still struggles with that part of our relationship."

Santana frowns. "What do you mean? Because you're both girls?"

"At first, that's what I thought it was," she confesses softly; "but, now, I think it's more to do with her default setting to deny herself pleasure. As if she thinks she doesn't deserve it."

Rachel and Santana have had a few conversations about Quinn's general psyche in the past, so they're not strangers to confiding in each other to keep their mutual blonde as happy as she can be. It's been a little different since the revelation of Santana's feelings, but they're both trying to adjust.

Rachel clears her throat. "But, I guess that's an entirely different conversation," she says. "Tell me why you're asking me about, um, lesbian sex?"

Santana looks as uncomfortable as they both feel. "I - I think Brittany wants to, you know, do it."

Rachel blinks. "I didn't know you two were so close."

Santana drops her gaze. "I don't know if we are," she says. "I like her; I do, but I don't think she's interested in... all of it."

"What do you mean?"

Santana glances over her shoulder at the quiet corridor. Most students are now in the cafeteria, so it's doubtful anyone would interrupt their conversation, but she still feels exposed. She takes a breath, and then meets Rachel's gaze. "Britt is kind of a free spirit."

Rachel smiles. "That's definitely one way to put it."

Santana returns her smile for a moment. "She's very... open... with affection. She'll kiss me, and then she'll kiss some guy, and I guess that's okay, because we're not dating or anything, but I - "

Rachel steps into her space. "What?"

"Is it so wild that I would want what you and Quinn have?" she asks softly. "Even if it is in secret."

"What we have?" Rachel questions, slightly confused.

"Love. Trust. Commitment. The whole nine yards."

Rachel gently touches her forearm. "I didn't know you were such a romantic," she says softly.

"Neither did I," Santana says. "What have you two lovestruck fools done to me?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You deserve all those things, you know," she says. "Have you talked to Brittany about it?"

Santana clenches her jaw for a moment. "She likes boys," she says. "She likes sleeping with boys. She - she wants _us_ to sleep with boys."

It takes Rachel a moment to catch on to what that means, and she immediately flushes. She huffs when Santana just laughs. "Quinn isn't the only prude," she mutters. "I'm losing my virginity when I'm twenty-five."

"You say that now," she easily says; "but Quinn is only going to get hotter, so we're both pretty screwed."

They descend into an uncomfortable silence then, and Santana wants to kick herself for putting her foot in it.

"Sorry," she says with a wince.

Rachel chooses not to comment. "I think you should talk to Brittany," she says instead. "Tell her what you want, and see if it could be what she wants, as well. You're entitled to ask for what you want and, if she's not the one to give it to you, then there are other girls."

The thing unspoken is that Santana doesn't want just an 'other' girl.

She wants Quinn, and they're all going to have to deal with the truth of it at some point. It's one thing to ignore it and try to sweep it under the rug, but it's bound to blow up in their faces sooner or later.

"Also," Rachel says; "Please don't give in to..." she trails off, unsure how to finish her sentence.

"I won't," Santana assures softly. "I was just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, San."

Santana shrugs. "Come on, we should get to lunch," she says. "Q is probably wondering where we are."

And, the thing is, Rachel reasons Quinn _is_ probably wondering about them _both_.

* * *

"What are we doing this weekend?"

Santana asks the question of Quinn as the two of them lead the Squad through their warm-up laps around the football field. Quinn always maintains a quick pace, which forces the other cheerleaders to push themselves.

While a lot of the older girls have grumbled about her appointment, it's impossible not to acknowledge that Quinn Fabray was born to lead. She does it so well; so effortlessly.

"I don't know," Quinn says, absently glancing over her shoulder to make sure no girls are falling behind. This is bound to be the easiest part of their practice. "We're busy on Friday night, but I can do Saturday afternoon. Maybe we can have a sleepover somewhere."

Santana is under no illusion that her best friends hang out without her - of course they do; they're dating - but the confirmation always seems to catch her off guard. "We?"

Quinn laughs softly. "Rachel and her fathers are coming over for dinner at our house," she says.

Santana winces. "Wow."

"I don't really know how to feel about it," Quinn confesses. "Apparently, my dad knows about our relationship, but we haven't talked about it. I think this is his way of telling me he's trying to accept Rachel and Rachel's role in my life."

Santana knows she shouldn't, but she still asks, "What role is that?"

Quinn gives her a curious look, and then her features soften. "She's everything, Santana," she says. "I don't know what I would do without her."

And, all of these things, they hurt. The way Quinn says them so easily, without any hesitation, it hurts Santana, and she knows she's going to have to find some way to get Quinn to -

To what?

Stop expressing her love for her girlfriend?

That doesn't seem fair to her, and Santana could never ask her to change. Quinn is still trying to figure out herself - the same way they all are, Santana thinks - and it's enough of a struggle without trying to censor oneself.

Quinn picks up the pace slightly, and Santana lets out a groan. "You know what you could do on Friday," Quinn offers with a sly smile; "go on a date with Brittany."

Santana almost trips over her own feet, and Quinn laughs. "What?"

"Sheesh, you're even falling for her."

"God, that was lame."

Quinn's smile is blinding, and Santana has to look away. "I don't know why you won't just ask her out," she says. "Go to dinner or a movie. It doesn't have to be anything monumental, you know. Girls can go to places together all the time. Nobody has to know."

Santana doesn't know how to tell her what the real problem is, so she remains silent. She talked to Brittany, as Rachel suggested, and she and the blonde are now very clear on a few things.

Brittany, in some cosmic way, managed to figure out how Santana really feels about Quinn. Santana blushed and apologised, but Brittany just took it in stride, claiming that she was in love with a superhero, too.

Santana didn't ask any questions.

Brittany claimed she just wanted to have fun and, while Santana can respect that, she's not sure she wants that at this point in her life. So far, it's not helping her get over Quinn, and she knows the only thing that will.

But, she's trying not to think about that.

* * *

"That went surprisingly well," Rachel muses as she and Quinn finish up with the dishes after the all-important dinner. She can hear her fathers conversing with Quinn's parents in the main living room of the Fabray house, over coffee and carrot cake that Quinn and Judy baked.

Quinn chuckles softly. "Are you referring to before or after my dad commented on reevaluating our sleepover rules?"

Rachel blushes. "We haven't even done anything."

"By all means, dear, inform my dad of that."

Rachel just shakes her head as she hands Quinn another plate to dry. "I'm not sleeping in the guest room," she concludes. "Your arms are too comfortable."

"Ah."

Rachel reaches up and softly kisses her cheek. "I love you."

Quinn looks down at her, slight confusion in her eyes. "You've been really affectionate these past few days," she gently observes. "Is everything okay?"

Rachel bites her bottom lip, unsure how to respond to that. She can't exactly say she's feeling threatened by feelings belonging to Santana that Quinn doesn't even know about. She thought helping get Santana and Brittany together would aid the situation, but it's only made everything more complicated. Especially now that the two girls are just going to be friends.

"Rach?" Quinn prompts quietly. "What's wrong?"

"I just - I really love you, Quinn."

"Well, I love you, too," Quinn returns, almost too easily, and it eases some of Rachel's anxiety. She likes to think she's handling all of it quite well, given that she hasn't actually spoken to anyone about it.

Not even her fathers.

This should be something she can talk to her girlfriend about, but she knows she can't. Not only would it betray Santana's trust, but Rachel can't predict how Quinn will react. Not only has Rachel been keeping this from her, but Rachel really doesn't want to give Quinn the option.

"And, yeah, tonight's going really well," Quinn says. "I hope it lasts."

"Don't jinx it," Rachel says, just as they hear raised voices coming from the living room. "Oh no," Rachel mutters, shutting off the water and following Quinn out of the kitchen, unsure what they're going to walk into.

Raised voices usually isn't a good thing, but what the girls find is... interesting.

"You can't honestly tell me you think Peyton Manning is a better quarterback than Brady."

"Don't even get me started, Fabray."

Quinn glances over her shoulder at Rachel. "What were we ever worried about?"

Rachel closes her fist around the back of Quinn's cardigan, because, God, Quinn has no idea what they're actually up against.

* * *

"I take it the dinner went well."

Quinn smiles widely at Santana, her eyes tracking Rachel as she leaves the room to get them some snacks for the upcoming movie marathon they have planned. "It did," Quinn says. Then, her features softening, she makes a confession that breaks Santana's heart in ways she didn't even know was possible. "I'm going to marry that girl, one day."

And, really, Santana doesn't know how she's ever supposed to overcome this without allowing Quinn to destroy her in the process.

* * *

Accepting her sexuality seems to be the easier part of the dilemma Santana finds herself in. If anyone had told her she would be in love with _Lucy_ before this year, she would have laughed in their face.

And yet, here she is, trying desperately to figure out a way to stop her heart from racing just because Quinn's arm is touching hers. It doesn't help that Rachel has fallen asleep with her head in Quinn's lap, or that Quinn is halfway there, her head coming to rest on Santana's shoulder.

Santana can't take it anymore.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

She breathes out slowly. "I love you."

Quinn shifts slightly, getting more comfortable. "I love you too, San," she murmurs, and it's obvious her meaning is different to Santana's.

Santana closes her eyes, suddenly knowing what she has to do.

She just needs to work up the courage to do it.

* * *

"Why don't you like Mercedes?"

It takes Quinn a moment to look away from her book, her brow furrowed as she attempts to shift her attention to her girlfriend.

"Hmm?"

"Mercedes," Rachel says; "you don't particularly like her, do you?"

Quinn moves her bookmark into position and closes her book, setting it on the bed beside her. She looks deathly serious, and Rachel is suddenly wary of what she's about to be told. "It's not that I don't like her," she says, careful and purposeful. "It's just that I can't quite get over the fact that - " Quinn stops, her gaze dropping to her hands. "She - she was there that day," she says, her voice barely a whisper, and it's enough to let Rachel know exactly which day she's talking about. "I was going to sit next to her, closer to the front, but..." she trails off. "I know it's not particularly rational on my part, but I just can't forget it.

"She was so cold and unfeeling, and so unsympathetic, and she's never said or done anything that endears herself to me. I know she's your friend, so I don't say anything, and I'm sorry if my response to her makes you uncomfortable, but I do try. I try not to make it obvious, but I'll try harder, okay?"

Rachel takes a moment to digest all of that, and then she stands from her desk and moves towards Quinn. Without hesitating or even requesting permission, she climbs onto the bed and straddles Quinn's thighs.

Quinn just watches her, slightly bemused, but still apprehensive.

"I love you," Rachel whispers, her fingers sliding into Quinn's hair. "And, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I didn't know you felt this way, and I've practically been forcing you to spend time with her."

"Rachel," she says. "It's fine."

"No, it's not," Rachel argues. "She's a reminder of a time that I imagine you want to forget."

"I don't."

"What?"

"Want to forget," she says. "I never want to forget Frannie, or how much she tried, and I tried, and I don't want to forget a single second of my sister's life."

Rachel breathes out slowly, her forehead dropping to rest against Quinn's.

"I also don't want to forget anything that led you and me to this."

Rachel pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting Quinn's. "This?"

"Exactly this."

"Me on top of you?"

And Quinn grins, her hands sliding over the top of Rachel's bare thighs. "Exactly."

Rachel tugs gently on Quinn's hair, tilting her head up, and then she kisses her. She feels Quinn smile against her lips, and she settles into the kiss even further.

Deepens it.

Opens her mouth to Quinn's glorious tongue, and moans deeply.

Quinn's hands slide along her thighs, up to her waist, and Rachel shifts closer, pressing her upper body against Quinn's, while rolling her hips.

And, okay, yeah, this is the first time they've done anything like this.

Quinn's fingers sneak under Rachel's shirt, and dance over her sides, tickling her ribs and drawing sounds from the brunette she should probably be embarrassed about.

But, then, Quinn is kissing her the way she's never kissed her before, and why would Rachel ever be embarrassed in this moment?

Needing to breathe, Rachel drags her lips away from Quinn's to trail kisses along the length of her jaw, down the column of her throat to her collarbone.

Quinn's head tips back, and she groans, her fingernails lightly scratching at the skin of Rachel's back, forcing her closer. "Rachel," she breathes, and the sound is so intoxicating, Rachel feels her heart thump louder and faster.

"Quinn," she murmurs against pale skin, smiling indulgently. "God, Quinn."

Quinn chuckles softly, and she sounds so light, happy, breathless, and Rachel doesn't think she's ever been so in love in her entire life. She's only fifteen, but she can't imagine loving anyone as intensely or fiercely as she loves this Lucy Quinn Fabray.

"Maybe we should cool down," Quinn suggests softly. "Aren't your dads going to be home soon?"

Rachel sighs, her face staying hidden in the crook of Quinn's neck. All she does is breathe steadily, not wanting to move away. She doesn't want this moment to end, because they don't get very many of them, now that they're back at school.

"What do you want me to do about Mercedes?" Rachel asks.

Quinn removes her hands from under Rachel's shirt and rests them on the small of her back. "Nothing," she says.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"She's your friend, Rach."

"And you're my girlfriend," Rachel immediately counters. "I love you, and that makes all the difference, Quinn. So, tell me, what are we supposed to do?"

Quinn sighs. "We're all going to have to spend time together at Glee," she says; "I don't really see what we're supposed to do."

"I can talk to her," Rachel suggests. "I mean, I don't think it's largely gone unnoticed that you go out of your way to avoid her. I want us all to be friends, and I don't know how we do that with all this stuff hanging in the air."

Quinn sighs, but she still agrees.

With Rachel Berry sitting in her lap, how can she not?

* * *

Rachel never really gets around to it.

* * *

Preparations for Sectionals start to take over their lives.

Rachel is so focused and hell bent on ensuring everyone pulls his or her weight that she almost misses it.

It starts with Quinn mentioning a second session with her therapist in the same week, and then follows with Santana mentioning that Quinn was unusually quiet during Cheerios practice.

Rachel almost misses it.

She's been so busy with Sectionals and school and life that she almost forgets that they're coming up on the one year anniversary of Frannie's death. Quinn hasn't mentioned it to her, so she doesn't want to be the one to bring it up.

But, then, Quinn does the thing and asks her to take a Mental Health Day with her, and Rachel immediately agrees. She doesn't even care what she has going on, she'll follow Quinn anywhere and everywhere.

"Just us?" Rachel questions softly, leaning against her locker and studying her blonde carefully.

Quinn nods. "Just you and me," she says. "I don't need anybody else."

"Why do you always insist on making it so difficult for me not to kiss you?" Rachel asks, pouting slightly. "It's not fair, you know? We're in school, and I have to control myself."

Quinn grins at her. "What? Do I make you want to lose control?"

Rachel just shakes her head and returns her attention to her locker.

Quinn moves to stand behind her, a little too close than is strictly necessary. "I'd like to lose control with you too, you know," she murmurs, and Rachel feels a shiver shoot straight down and then back up her entire body. "Oh, the things we could be doing."

Rachel looks over her shoulder at her, and then huffs at the naughty grin Quinn is wearing. "You're a dangerous one, Fabray."

"I think you'll find I'm many things," she says, sounding way too serious. "But, I'm working on it, and I need this day, and I need you, and my therapist says I should ask for what I need."

Rachel wants to take Quinn's face in her hands and kiss her senseless, but she keeps it together enough to say, "You should know that I would give you the world."

Quinn eyes her seriously, her head tilting to the side. "You already do."

And, Rachel can't resist this time. She reaches up onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around Quinn's shoulders, her own eyes closing.

Quinn chuckles softly, her body vibrating in Rachel's arms. "Do you want to find a janitor's closet and make out?" she whispers, and Rachel shivers.

Rachel releases her after a moment. "Don't tempt me," she says playfully, as she turns back to her locker. "I might just take you up on your offer."

Quinn hums softly. "I wouldn't be against it, you know?"

Rachel feels as if she's missing something important, but she's not sure she wants to ask. Steeling herself, she turns back around and meets Quinn's gaze. "What's going on?"

Quinn blinks once, twice, and then sighs. "Do you want more?" she asks softly. So, so softly.

"More what?"

"More," she emphasises, the inflection in her voice telling. "Are you happy?"

Rachel waits a beat before she says, "I'm happy, Quinn."

"Is it enough?" she asks. "What I can offer; is it enough?"

Rachel wants to cup her cheek, but she settles for pinching the fabric of her top between her thumb and forefinger. "It's more than enough," she assures Quinn. "Everything with you is so much more than I ever expected."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Quinn smiles in relief, and Rachel feels it right to her very toes.

She's never been so sure of anything or anyone more than she is in this moment.

* * *

On December fifteenth, Santana wakes to an insistent tapping on her bedroom window. She knows it's early, just from the lack of sunlight, and she feels a wave of irritation as she rolls out of bed.

She's rubbing at the sleepiness in her eyes as she stumbles towards her window, pulling open her curtains and coming face-to-face with none other then Quinn Fabray.

Santana jumps in place, and she can see Quinn laughing at her. For a moment, Santana wants to close the curtain and go back to bed, but Quinn is right there, looking expectant and -

Holy fuck.

Quinn is at her window.

Which is on the second floor.

Santana immediately opens the window and sticks out her head. "What the fuck are you doing?" she hisses.

Quinn just grins at her. "Want to go for a run?"

Santana gapes at her. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Quinn cocks her head to the side. "You swear a lot when you've just woken up," she points out.

Santana just continues to stare.

"Come on," Quinn says. "Let's go for a run."

Santana almost knows what Quinn is actually saying. She knows what today is, because she and Rachel have been wary of it since the other brunette remembered it was coming up.

"Please," Quinn says, and she sounds small, vulnerable, and Santana wants nothing more than to pull the girl into her room and -

And what?

Hold her, maybe. Reassure her everything is going to be okay. Whisper sweet nothings. Kiss her.

Santana isn't a romantic by any means. She's not affectionate. She doesn't get hugged by her family - except maybe by her little brother, because he obviously doesn't understand yet what the tension in her body means - and the only person who really does hug her is Rachel.

The guilt is too much.

Santana blinks. "I'll meet you downstairs," she says, and then closes the window. She takes her time changing into her running gear and slipping on her shoes, brushing her teeth and hair for good measure. Her heart is steadily beating, faster than normal, but she doesn't feel as if she's going to pass out.

Quinn is waiting on the front lawn when she emerges, absently stretching her lithe body, and Santana's traitorous heart reacts.

So does her body.

Quinn lifts her head at the first sound of Santana's unexpected gasp, her brow furrowed. "You okay?"

"It's fucking early," Santana says, trying to recover. "Why are we doing this again?"

Quinn just looks at her, saying nothing.

Santana starts to stretch, the silence slightly uncomfortable. She's barely awake, and now Quinn wants them to go on a run, and Santana hates herself a little that she's just given in.

She has a feeling Quinn could ask her anything, and she would cave.

It's pathetic.

_She's_ pathetic.

She's Santana fucking Lopez, and this is all so beneath her.

"Ready to go?" Quinn says, interrupting her thoughts.

Santana just grumbles something, and Quinn uses is it as agreement enough to get them started. The sun is still at least a half hour away, and Santana suspects Quinn wants the darkness for whatever she wants to say.

They've gone almost two miles when Quinn finally speaks, and her words catch Santana completely off guard.

"I once tried drowning myself."

Almost predictably, Santana trips over own feet, but Quinn doesn't even look at her. She appreciates it, even if it bothers her.

"It's kind of impossible to do," Quinn says. "Did you know that?"

"No," Santana says, and her voice is somewhat shaky.

"I was about eight at the time," she continues. "And I was curious." She snorts. "Well, I was more than curious, really. I was just, you know - "

Santana wants them to stop running because, God, she can't handle this.

"I wondered if anyone would miss me if I were gone," Quinn says. "I had no friends, and I was convinced my parents wouldn't even notice." She slows her pace. "My sister, Frannie, was the worst kind of teenager. Or the best, depending on how you look at it. To the outside world, she was perfect, but she was a total conniving bitch."

Santana startles at the dark laugh Quinn lets out.

"I didn't realise until she came home from college that her struggles had already started by then, and she was just trying to cope the only way she knew how." She picks up the pace again. "I didn't realise what it meant when she didn't want to talk to me or spend time with me or even smile at me. I think those years before she left for college were some of the hardest for both of us. She put a lot of pressure on herself, and I guess my parents did as well, and she did her best to live up to it.

"I envied her so much. I wanted to be exactly like her, and I wanted..." she trails off. "I wanted to be seen, I guess, and that first time I toyed with the idea of... disappearing was just the first of many."

Part of Santana already knows all of this, but it still breaks her heart to have it confirmed this way. From the source.

"When I said I wanted to be just like Frannie; this isn't exactly what I had in mind," Quinn says, absently waving a hand in the air. "We're more alike than I ever thought, but - but we're better prepared, I guess. Frannie hid a lot of it, and I'm trying not to do that." Quinn glances at Santana. "I want you to know me, San. I'm a mess most of the time, and every day is a struggle. Some are better than others, and I really wish I didn't understand what drove my sister to take her own life exactly one year ago today as much as I do."

Santana sucks in a breath. "Quinn," she whispers, an ache in her chest.

"I want to run," Quinn says.

Santana frowns. What? They are running.

"Every day," Quinn goes on. "I want to run somewhere far, far away, Santana."

It takes a moment, and then Santana gets it, and she immediately stops running.

Quinn gets a metre further, and then also comes to a stop. She doesn't turn to look at her friend when she continues. "I wanted to follow Frannie. I cried for five days straight and, when they came to get her from the house, I wouldn't let go. She was my sister, and I vowed to keep her here, and I failed, and I just - I wanted to be with her and tell her I'm sorry and I love her, and the only way to do that is to... run."

Santana doesn't realise there are tears on her cheeks until Quinn is standing right in front of her, fingers warm on her skin.

"Don't cry, San," Quinn whispers, and she doesn't drop her hand. "It's hard, but I'm here. I'm trying so hard."

Santana doesn't know how to do this. She doesn't know how she's supposed to deal with all these feelings that just seem to be... growing. Why can't Quinn be this horrible human being or something? It would be so much easier for Santana.

"Quinn," Santana says, and she really doesn't know what to say.

"I wanted to tell you thank you," Quinn says, and she's standing so close to Santana that the Latina can see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. "For lots of things, but mainly for helping me... not... run."

Santana can't bring herself to look away.

"I know it's not what Frannie would want for me, and I have all these wonderful, good things in my life, and I want you to know you're one of them."

Santana wants to tell her to stop talking. She needs her to shut the fuck up, because Santana is going to do something stupid. The sky is dark and the conversation is heavy, and Santana can't seem to catch her breath.

"So, thank you," Quinn says, smiling softly. Her fingers are still on Santana's skin, and this is dangerous. It's going to be bad. It's already bad.

Santana takes in a shuddering breath, and then does the only thing she can think of that will quell her desire without blowing apart her conscience. Santana wraps her arms around Quinn's shoulders, and ignores the way Quinn tenses. They've never hugged before.

Literally, never.

And, four-point-two seconds in, Santana figures out why.

Her mind is screaming _Abort, abort!_ but her body relaxes into the embrace, and her heart slows for the first time since she realised she loved the very girl in her arms. She closes her eyes when she feels Quinn's arms close loosely around her waist, and it feels like everything and nothing at the same time.

A hesitant hand lifts to smooth blonde hair, and Santana knows this might be the first and last time they ever do this.

Quinn's grip tightens momentarily, and then she moves to release Santana, and the Latina almost doesn't let her. She hesitates for a beat, just soaking it up, and it takes Quinn asking, "What are you doing?" for Santana to drop her hands and sigh.

"I'm sorry," Santana says, and she wipes her own eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Quinn frowns slightly. "You're not that sweaty," she says.

Santana rolls her eyes. "You're an idiot."

She smiles again, and it's a sad kind of smile.

"Don't you dare run anywhere," Santana says.

Quinn just nods her head, and then they're moving again.

* * *

Santana doesn't let the implications of her morning with Quinn sink in until she gets to school. She doesn't know how to deal with the guilt of seeing Rachel, and she intends to avoid her as much as possible.

Which all proves to be moot because Rachel isn't even in school.

Neither is Quinn.

And, well, the truth of where Santana exists in their world is made all too clear.

They're together.

Them.

Rachel and Quinn.

The rage she feels at the painful realisation that she'll always be on the _outside_ brings a scowl to her face, and helps create a wide berth around her. For this one day that Quinn isn't around, Santana is the head honcho, and it gives her the momentum she needs to do what she's convinced she has to.

She's decided.

She's found the courage from somewhere, and she has no choice now. She needs to protect herself.

It's time.

It's been time for a while.


	4. Decided to Break It

**Part Four**

**Decided to Break It**

* * *

Rachel isn't sure what to expect from a Mental Health Day with Quinn, and what she gets isn't anything she could have come up with herself.

She goes over to Quinn's house after her fathers leave for work, and she's unsurprised to find Quinn dressed in her running gear and actually making breakfast in the kitchen.

Judy is sitting at the breakfast counter, watching her daughter carefully, and Rachel can hear Russell moving around in his study.

Quinn pulls Rachel into a hug the second she sees her, and she holds on for dear life. It's just the start, Rachel realises, because Quinn doesn't move very far from her the entire morning.

Breakfast is subdued, and Rachel can tell not a single Fabray got much sleep.

When Russell leaves for work, Judy drives herself, Quinn and Rachel to the cemetery, stopping by the florists on their way.

Rachel has only ever seen pictures of Frannie, but she doesn't know all that much about her. Quinn doesn't talk about her all that often, and she wouldn't dream of asking either of her parents.

Quinn holds Rachel's hand as they walk, and Rachel reasons it's for a number of reasons.

There are tears, which isn't a surprise, but it still makes Rachel's heart ache.

Rachel tries not to listen to what Quinn says to Frannie's tombstone, but she catches things like _I miss you every day_ and _I wish you were here_ and _I have a girlfriend_ and _Dad actually likes her_ and _I'm sorry I couldn't save you_ and _please forgive me_ and _I'm trying, I'm trying so hard_.

Rachel has to turn away.

It takes Quinn wrapping arms around her from behind to settle some of the tension in her body, and she tries to stop herself from imagining how close her girlfriend has come to following her sister into oblivion.

"I love you," Quinn whispers, pressing a kiss to her neck.

Rachel likes to think it's enough, but she's starting to wonder if it actually is.

* * *

They spend the day at the Fabray house that feels more like a home with each passing day. Rachel doesn't explicitly ask, but Quinn sits her down with several photo albums and tells her stories from her childhood.

Stories about Frannie.

Quinn doesn't cry. Not even when she takes Rachel up to Frannie's bedroom... that looks untouched.

"I come in here, sometimes," Quinn says, standing in the middle of the carpet. "When she came home and I figured out what was really happening, sometimes I couldn't get to sleep because I used to worry I would wake up in the morning and she would be gone. So, she used to let me sleep with her. I liked knowing she was right there, as if I could keep the demons away just with my presence." She rolls her eyes at herself. "It doesn't smell like her anymore."

Rachel squeezes the hand she's holding, and Quinn glances at her. "It kind of smells like you."

Quinn smiles slightly, and then leads her back out. They don't go back downstairs. Instead, Quinn leads Rachel to her own bedroom, and the two of them lie on the blonde's bed, facing each other in the silence.

They're alone in the house, because Judy had to go out for the afternoon. Quinn said it was to an AA meeting, today especially, and Rachel just nodded in morbid understanding.

Everyone has his or her vice.

They're coping as best they can, and how can she think of anything else when Quinn is right here with her?

Quinn kisses her first.

It's a slow, purposeful kiss, and Rachel loses herself in the taste and feel of Quinn's mouth against her own. There's a certain intensity to the moment that has Rachel wishing the rest of the world didn't exist.

"Frannie would have liked you," Quinn whispers when they break apart.

"Oh?"

"She would have teased us mercilessly about how sappy we are, but she would have approved from the get-go."

"Why?"

"Because there's nobody in this world who could make me as happy as you do, and I think that's all she ever wanted for me."

Rachel isn't sure what to say to that, so she just kisses her again.

* * *

It isn't until the next day that everything falls apart.

Rachel is at her locker when it happens, and she really doesn't see it coming. It's so surprising that she's certain she's actually dreaming for a moment, because...

No.

It has to be a dream.

A nightmare.

Rachel just stares helplessly through the slushy clinging to her skin, mouth agape as the crowded corridor looks on in surprise at the spectacle before them. It's not the first time Rachel has been slushied this year, but Quinn Fabray, HBIC, has been on a crusade to abolish the practice.

And, now, this.

The Head Cheerleader's best friend.

Rachel's bottom lip trembles as she stares at the thrower. "Santana?" she whispers, utterly confused.

The Latina regards her with cool eyes. "I'm just restoring order around here," she says, just a tad too loud for private conversation. She wants the others to hear, and Rachel's shock is all that stops her from -

From what? Bursting into tears? Demanding an explanation?

"Do you hear that, people?" Santana says, louder. "Santana Lopez is declaring it open season, once more. Nobody is safe."

Rachel frowns. "San?"

Sharp eyes snap towards her. "Don't talk to me, Treasure Trail!" she shouts, and Rachel flinches. "Don't so much as look at me."

Rachel really doesn't understand what's happening. "But - but we're friends," she says, and her voice comes out sounding pitiful, which is even more embarrassing.

Santana lets out a low growl, stepping close to Rachel. "You and I are not friends," she says. "We were never friends."

Rachel whimpers at the severity in the girl's voice.

"Like I would ever be friends with a freak like you."

There's such hatred in her voice, and Rachel honestly doesn't know what she did to warrant it.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," Santana says, laughing darkly. "We all knew this was going to happen. People like you don't belong with people like me."

Rachel thinks it's over, and all she wants is for Santana to walk away and leave her alone, but that doesn't happen.

It can't, because then there's a certain hush that falls on the corridor, and Rachel immediately knows the situation is going to get infinitely worse.

"What's going on here?" Quinn's voice is authoritative, and Santana falters for a moment, before she steels herself.

Rachel wants to tell Quinn to leave when the blonde appears in the crowd, but the words fail her. She's just so relieved to see her, because nothing else is making sense, and Quinn is always the one to make things better.

Quinn takes in the scene with slight confusion, her eyes darting between all the people in play. Her eyes narrow at the slushy on Rachel, and she steps forward. "Who?" is all she asks.

There's silence for a moment, and then Santana says, "Me."

If Rachel weren't so out of it at the moment, she would probably laugh at the way Quinn's mouth drops open and her brow furrows as she reevaluates the scene with that new information.

"San?" Quinn questions, and her voice is soft, confused. "What? Why?"

"I'm restoring order," Santana simply says.

"What?"

"You're too soft, Fabray," Santana says. "We're cheerleaders. _Cheerios_. People are supposed to respect us. They're supposed to fear us, scatter when they see us coming, and you've messed it all up."

Quinn still looks completely lost. "Why would you slushy Rachel?" she asks, as if it's the single most important thing in the world.

"Just letting the school know that nobody is safe," Santana says. "Not even the former Head Cheerleader's pet."

There are gasps everywhere.

"Don't call her that," Quinn says, at the same time Rachel asks, "Former?"

Santana smirks. "What? You don't honestly expect Sylvester to have a basket case as her Captain, do you?"

Quinn freezes, feeling ice run through her veins, and Rachel has never quite hated Santana than in this moment.

Santana clenches her jaw, and then addresses the crowd. "Don't look so surprised," she says. "Sylvester makes a habit of getting rid of the ones she no longer wants."

Quinn says and does nothing, and it's unnerving.

"You heard it here, folks," Santana calls out; "Quinn Fabray is no longer Head Cheerleader. _I am_."

There's a burst of murmuring, and Rachel wants nothing more to pull Quinn into a hug.

Quinn scoffs. "Is this some kind of coup?" she asks, because she's a Fabray, and she doesn't take things lying down.

"It required no work, at all," Santana says. "It was almost too easy." There are things she's not saying, and Rachel just wishes everything would stop. She wants time to stop, so they can all take a deep breath and talk it out.

But, then, Quinn is looking at Santana as if she doesn't recognise her, and Rachel knows she would fall to pieces if ever Quinn looked at her that way. What is Santana _doing_?

"I don't understand," Quinn says, and her voice is small, barely a whisper. "Is - is this about yesterday?"

Rachel frowns in confusion. What happened yesterday?

Santana casts a look Rachel's way, and it's the moment the Latina realises she's going to have to do it. She's going to have to sever everything if ever she's going to survive the rest of a life where _QuinnandRachel_ is a thing. "Yesterday?" Santana scoffs. "You mean when I learned just how pathetic you really are?"

Rachel makes a strangled sound, and Quinn just stares blankly, disbelief evident in her normally-soulful eyes.

"San," Rachel tries to say, because she needs the girl to stop. There are things that are irreversible, and she's getting to that boundary. They might be able to come back from this, only if Santana stops talking.

"I want nothing to do with you," Santana says, her eyes on Quinn. "And you," she says, turning her eyes on a shivering Rachel, whose eyes have pooled with tears, because it wasn't supposed to be like this. "I'm done with both of you." Then Quinn, "But, especially _you_, Lucy."

Rachel can hear the pain in her voice, and she just wants to make it better. Santana is just _reacting_ to something, and they can salvage this. They _can_.

Which is an ideal that gets shot to hell when Santana says her next, parting words. "Guess I caught on to what Frannie was on about when she decided she wanted nothing to do with you, either."

The change in Quinn is immediate.

For a moment, the air is still - so, so still - and then Quinn is lunging for her. Santana clearly doesn't expect it, because she stumbles backwards, and Quinn's sudden _you don't get to talk about her_ is drowned out by the surprised sounds in the corridor.

It takes both Karofsky and Noah to stop Quinn from possibly gouging out Santana's eyes, and then it takes Rachel to make her stop fighting completely.

Rachel moves to stand right in front of her, putting herself between the two cheerleaders. "Quinn," she whispers, and there are tears streaming down both their cheeks. "Stop," she says.

Quinn looks helpless, and her eyes are shadowed from the pain and the… darkness. It's trying to grab ahold of her, and there's nothing either of them can do to stop it. "I - I can't - it hurts - I need - "

"I know," Rachel calmly says, tempted to touch her. "I know."

"_Please_."

Rachel doesn't know what to say or do, so she just presses a hand against Quinn's hip to get her to turn and walk away. They don't need an audience for this part. It's going to be difficult enough. "Let's go," Rachel says softly. "You can help me get cleaned up."

Quinn doesn't move for a moment, looking dazed and confused, but then she relents to the pressure of Rachel's hand and allows herself to be led away.

"Yeah, just walk away," Santana calls out. "Better yet, fucking run away, the way you seem so desperate to."

Rachel spins to glare at her, and the hatred in those eyes is palpable. Santana has never seen anything like it. "You know, maybe, somehow, I could have found a way to understand and forgive, but this is too far," she says, and her voice is laced with anger, disappointment, protectiveness and, yeah, hatred. "Jesus, Santana," she says tiredly. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

All Santana knows is she no longer has to deal with unwanted feelings that have been crushing her for months, and that's fine with her. This way, it's over. All of it, it's just fucking over, and she's so looking forward to the respite.

Once Rachel and Quinn are out of sight, Santana stomps her foot. "What the fuck are you idiots staring at?" she barks at the gathered students. "The show's over, people."

Noah whoops. "And... she's back!"

Santana likes to think so.

* * *

Rachel and Quinn don't make it to Glee that afternoon.

Nearly everyone in the club, save for Brittany and the footballers were slushied during the day, and Mr Schuester walks into a very tense room.

He's sorely tempted to walk straight out.

Well.

"We're a little low on numbers," he points out, searching their faces. "Where are Quinn and Rachel?"

"Why don't you ask Santana?" Kurt says from where he's seated, arms folded over his chest.

"Shut it, Lady Hummel," Santana hisses.

Mr Schuester frowns, because he's pretty sure those three are actually friends. "What happened?"

Kurt throws his arms up in the air in a rare show of exasperation. "That's what I want to know," he says. "One second, they're all buddy/buddy and, the next, Santana is throwing a slushy in Rachel's face and then washing her hands of Quinn, and nobody knows _why_."

"It's none of your fucking business," Santana growls at him.

"Santana," Mr Schuester reprimands, and the entire room falls silent. He feels completely out of his depth. They have Sectionals on Saturday, and now his team is fighting. How are they ever supposed to win when they can't even be in the same room as one another?

The lesson doesn't get any better, and he gives up halfway through because it's near impossible to practice their setlist without Rachel. They could probably get by without Quinn, but Rachel is their female lead and, as much as Mercedes, Kurt and Santana push for that spot, he's not going to give it to them.

Not until he has a better grasp on what he's dealing with here.

* * *

Mr Schuester doesn't have to wait all that long because, just minutes after the Choir Room has emptied of students, he hears a knock on his door, and he's met with a red-eyed, blotchy Rachel Berry. She's obviously been crying, and her hands are shaking.

"Mr Schue," she says, and her voice trembles. "I - I just wanted to apologise for missing Glee. Quinn and I, we had - we had something to deal with, and I'm - I'm sorry." Her voice catches on a sob, and he doesn't know what to do. "I needed to come and tell you that… Quinn isn't going to be able to perform this weekend."

His brow furrows. "Oh? Is she okay?"

Rachel looks up at him, meeting his gaze, and he sees such a depth of emotion. "Honestly, no, she's not," she says. "I don't think we're going to see her until next year, Mr Schue."

He blinks in surprise. It's almost Winter Break, so it's not wildly unheard of, but her words still feel very heavy. As if she's telling him something completely different. "Are _you_ okay?" he asks.

Rachel straightens at the question, and she wipes at her eyes. "I - I have to be," she says resolutely. "She needs me to be."

And, okay, he _really_ isn't prepared for any of this. "Rachel?"

"I need to go," she says. "Sorry, again, for missing Glee, and I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Schue."

He's never felt more helpless than in this moment, and he has a feeling he's missing something very important.

* * *

Neither Rachel nor Quinn is in school the next day.

Santana is still on a rampage, asserting her power and dominance on the masses in a way that even surprises her because, God, _that_ impossible feeling is so much worse now.

* * *

Only Rachel returns to school on Friday, and she attempts to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but she's already been slushied twice by the time lunch rolls around. She just cleans herself up, and then goes to see Sue Sylvester.

Rachel is, admittedly, nervous, but this is something she has to do. Quinn asked her to, and she's not going to let down her girlfriend, even if it's going to be a few weeks before she sees her again.

Coach Sylvester looks surprised to see her, but she manages to hold out on any insults as Rachel shuffles inside, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"Coach Sylvester," Rachel starts, her voice steady. "I'm here to return Quinn's uniforms."

The woman blinks, and she can't tell if she's surprised or not. "Set them there," she says. "Kid couldn't even quit herself, huh?"

Rachel tenses. "She might have," she says; "If she was actually in Lima."

That piques the woman's interest. "And, where is my dear former Head Cheerleader?"

Rachel almost laughs. "What do you care?" she asks. "You chucked her to the side just as you did Stacey. I doubt you cared then."

She presses her lips together. "I very rarely make mistakes, Miss Berry."

Rachel scoffs. "Well, it seems to me you've made plenty this year." And, okay, Rachel's sense of self-preservation seems to be shot. "Firstly, you _never_ should have made her Head Cheerleader because, God, she wasn't ready, and she never could have said no. You just put this target on her back and piled on all this pressure, and _she wasn't ready_."

"That's not - "

"And you sure as hell shouldn't have turned your decision based on whatever Santana told you," Rachel continues. "Do you know what you did? What you _both_ did? She was _wanted_. You gave her a leadership position, _purpose_, and then you just took it away, and she's lost. She's so lost, and you don't even care. You've never cared. _Nobody_ cares.

"She's so perfect and beautiful, and she doesn't even _see_ it, and I've been trying _so hard_ to keep her here, and then you people just come in and decide she's not good enough or stable enough or whatever reason you have for undercutting yet _another_ of your captains, and everything I've worked so hard to hold onto just unravels, and _you don't even care_!"

"Miss Berry."

Rachel realises she's hyperventilating too late, and her sobs are making it difficult to get air into her lungs. She drops her head between her knees and tries to get ahold of herself, because this isn't what Quinn would want. She doesn't even really _know_ what Quinn would want, because the person she saw just yesterday _wasn't_ her Quinn.

Rachel suddenly gets to her feet, and she forces her breakdown to come to an abrupt halt. She can fall apart later. When she's alone. When she's not in front of this woman, who will probably always have an irrational hatred for her. For _them_.

"When she gets back, and she _will_ come back, just don't talk to her," Rachel says. "You've done enough." And, with that, she spins on her heel and walks out. She definitely doesn't go to the cafeteria, and rather disappears into a bathroom to finish the rest of her breakdown.

She almost laughs at how it's _nothing_ like Quinn's.

_Hers_ isn't the dangerous kind.

* * *

It's almost as if everyone expects something to happen when Rachel walks into the Choir Room for Glee that afternoon. All the girl does is scan the room for a seat, and then move to settle beside Mike. They don't say anything to each other, but he does place a soft hand on her knee, and she appreciates him for it.

Rachel thinks he's a lot like Quinn in many ways. She reasons it's mainly based on his silence - it's the profound kind - and his presence. The way he carries himself, maybe. It's obvious he's a dancer, and it's obvious he cares.

"She's not coming, is she?" he whispers before the lesson starts.

"No."

He just nods. "Can - can I text her?"

"She doesn't have her phone," Rachel tells him. "But, uh, you can write her a letter. If you drop it off at her house, her mother can get it to her." She realises she's said too much when his eyes widen, but he's trustworthy. He loves Quinn in ways only Quinn and Mike can understand, and both girls are going to need him to get through any of this.

Mike smiles slightly. "I bet you're having a pretty shitty birthday, huh?"

And, Rachel smiles for the first time in what feels like fifty days of Hell. "You remember?"

"Quinn's been reminding me for a while," he says. "She kind of had something planned."

"Oh?"

He shrugs. "Maybe she'll do it when she gets back."

_When_ she gets back.

Rachel closes her eyes and sighs, dropping her head onto Mike's shoulder. Without Santana, and now without Quinn, Rachel doesn't really have many people at school. Mercedes and Kurt have each other, and Artie and Tina have each other.

Right now, Rachel really has only herself, and she's going to have to get through the next few days until Winter Break officially begins without having another breakdown of her own.

When Mr Schuester eventually arrives, he offers them all a kind smile, claps his hands, and then invites them to stand, so they can get to the auditorium to rehearse. There's a bit of grumbling, but they get going, and Mr Schuester gets them all working.

It becomes increasingly clear, with all the changes he's making, that he's cutting Quinn out of the performance.

"What gives, Mr Schue?" Finn asks.

Mr Schuester exchanges a look with Rachel, and then says, "Quinn isn't going to be performing with us tomorrow."

"What?" That's Kurt. "Wait, what? Why?"

"Did she quit Glee?" Brittany asks, frowning.

"No," Mr Schuester says. "She's just not in school at the moment, so she won't be performing."

"But then we have only eleven people," Mercedes points out. "God, that's so selfish."

Rachel whips her head around so fast, her neck actually clicks. "What did you just say?" she asks, and her voice is… haunting.

Mercedes looks startled for a moment, but she recovers soon enough. "You heard me," she says. "Just because her popularity took a dive, she decides not to come to school. How is any of that fair to the rest of us?"

Rachel's eyes narrow, and she has an entire paragraph planned, but Mr Schuester beats her to it.

"That's enough," he says seriously. "Quinn isn't here, so we're going to have to make do."

"But we need a twelfth person," Artie points out.

"We'll figure something out," Mr Schuester says, and that's that about that.

* * *

"Do you need a ride home?" Mike asks when they've finally been dismissed. Rachel missed the last bus, and she's not about to ask Santana for a ride. She was just going to text her fathers, but this is much better.

"You don't mind?"

"Nope," he says.

Rachel smiles gratefully at him, and then follows him to his car. The perks of being sixteen, she muses. Now that she's finally of age, she wonders if she'll get access to one of the cars… after she gets her licence, of course.

She really wanted to spend this day with Quinn, but she knows that's an impossibility at the moment. She can't even _talk_ to Quinn at this point, and that truth _hurts_.

When Mike eventually pulls up in front of Rachel's house, neither of them has said a word since they left school. It's not uncomfortable, but there's a certain tension in it. Mike obviously wants to ask something, but he doesn't know how to do it.

She sighs. "Just ask, Mike," she says.

He waits a beat, clears his throat, and then asks, "She _is_ coming back, right?"

And, for the life of her, Rachel can't bring herself to answer him because, God, she doesn't want to _lie_.

* * *

The entire Winter Break is gloomy and subdued for Rachel.

She writes letters to Quinn, who is in a youth facility in Columbus, because she just _couldn't handle it_.

Rachel remembers that Wednesday, when everything fell apart, as if it was yesterday. Everything is burnt into her memory; the way Quinn couldn't form proper sentences, couldn't even _walk_.

Rachel had to lead her to the bathroom, and it was as if she was slowly slipping away, dissociating right before her eyes, reaching for an invisible sister that would never return to her.

Rachel couldn't even bring herself to clean herself up until Quinn kicked into gear and started doing it for her. They were automatic movements, robotic in nature, and Rachel could have sworn Quinn was shifting gears in her head in an attempt to protect herself.

But, Rachel knew better.

It took a few hours to set in and, when it did, Quinn was _catatonic_.

Rachel called Judy, because she didn't know what else to do. Judy was supposed to make it better. She was supposed to _fix_ it, so Quinn wouldn't be so lost.

When Thursday happened, Rachel realised she probably wasn't cut out for any of this. None of them were.

The mere fact they _knew_ they couldn't leave Quinn alone was enough to prove that.

The fact that none of them could get her to talk was evidence enough and, when Rachel found Quinn curled up on the floor of Frannie's bedroom, begging for a ghost to come back and pleading for a dead girl to forgive her with a bottle of pills clutched so tightly in her right fist, Judy made the call.

Rachel has gone through her birthday, Hanukkah, Christmas and New Year's without seeing her girlfriend, and she has no idea which girl she's going to meet when she finally gets to be with her again.

Quinn responds to the letters with apologies and wishes for the future. _When she's better_. Rachel cries every time, and she wonders if maybe Santana was right in wanting to cut ties from this overwhelming feeling.

Even as Rachel guiltily thinks it, she knows she could never let go of Quinn. She could _never_ not be hers.

She made a promise, she thinks.

In her head, maybe, but she intends to keep it.

* * *

They talk on the phone the first Wednesday of January, and Quinn tells her about her roommate, who's convinced she's in love with a teenage vampire. There's also, apparently, another girl down the corridor who thinks she's some kind of witch who helped save the world from some kind of dark wizard, and then another who claims she had to kill other children in an arena for other people's entertainment.

Quinn even laughs a little, and Rachel has missed her _so, so much_.

"You sound better," Rachel says softly.

"I feel better," Quinn confesses quietly. "I'm - I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Don't apologise," Rachel tells her. "You were just trying to cope the best way you could, and - "

"I _couldn't_."

"And, baby, that's okay."

Quinn sighs. "That's what people have been telling me," she says. "It's okay not to be okay, and it's not my fault." She's quiet for a moment. "They put me on new antidepressants," she says. "I've been feeling a little odd as I'm adjusting to them, but I think they're helping."

"Oh?"

"I don't have the urge to run nearly as much," she says. "Dr Richards, my therapist here, says that I need to find better hobbies. Apparently, competitive cheerleading was always, probably, going to end in disaster."

Rachel almost laughs. "I think it turns to 'definitely' when Sue Sylvester is involved," she says, and she can practically hear Quinn smile on the other end of the phone.

God, she's missed her so much.

"How are you?" Quinn asks.

"I'm… fine." She closes her eyes, because that was the worst lie she's ever told.

"Rachel," Quinn breathes, and Rachel will _break apart_ at the sound of that voice.

"I miss you so much," she says. "I miss your voice and your hands and your smile and I even miss the way you roll your eyes, and when are you coming home?"

"Some time next week."

"Really?"

"I wanted to surprise you, but I want you to know I'm coming home, okay? And, we're going to spend a whole day together, and we're going to talk. You'll tell me how you really are, and I'll tell you that I'm still here. I'm right here, Rach. I'm right here."

Rachel wipes at her traitorous tears and sniffles.

Quinn breathes out slowly. "You didn't really tell me much about Sectionals, besides the fact that you won."

Rachel automatically smiles, because Quinn Fabray really knows her. "It was a bit of a disaster, really," she says. "Because we were one person short, we managed to rope Jacob Ben Israel into coming with us."

Quinn audibly winces. "I'm sorry."

Rachel just continues. "And, then, when we got there, we realised that the other teams had our set."

"What?"

"It was horrible, Quinn," she says. "Everyone was so - " she stops herself from saying the word 'depressed,' because _that_ word has a whole other meaning for them now and always. "Sad, I guess. We were pretty hopeless."

"But… how?"

"Apparently, Coach Sylvester managed to get it out of Brittany, and then she leaked it."

Quinn growls. "I can't say I'm surprised, though."

"Still."

"So, what happened?"

Here, Rachel hesitates, but they're going to have to talk about it at some point, so she may as well. "Well, uh, Santana actually found us another song, and we had just enough time to rehearse it."

Quinn is silent for a moment. "What song was it?"

"_You Can't Always Get What You Want_ by The Rolling Stones."

And, well, yeah, Quinn bursts out laughing.

Rachel is suitably bemused, but she can't help her smile.

"And, the solo?"

"Mercedes eventually acquiesced, and I sang _Don't Rain on My Parade_."

"Damn," Quinn says. "I wish I'd seen that."

"I was amazing."

"I bet," Quinn says. "You always are."

Rachel just closes her eyes, and soaks up the feeling of just being able to _talk_ to Quinn. "I've missed you so much," she says for what must be the hundredth time.

"I've missed you, too," Quinn says. "I _do_ miss you. Every day. Every minute. Every second."

Rachel just basks in the sound of those words, letting them settle over her body and making her swoon.

"So, what did you do today?" Quinn eventually asks.

"I actually did some singing," she says. "I went out - by myself, in the car, it was amazing - to buy some music, and there was a piano."

"Ooh, an impromptu performance?"

Rachel nods. "There was this guy, and he played the piano, and we sang _Hello_ by Lionel Richie."

Quinn is silent for a beat. "You sang _together_?" she asks.

"…Yes."

"Oh?"

"Quinn, he was older," Rachel says, sensing some kind of disjoint. "And, plus, I'm saving all my best duets for when I'm with you."

"I'm sorry," Quinn says. "I don't even know _how_ I'm reacting. I guess I just - I don't really like the idea of you just up and singing with some stranger, but I guess I'm going to have to get used to it for when you're famous on Broadway, right?"

And… Rachel is back to swooning. "It's okay," she says. "I think I would be a bit uncomfortable if you did some cheerleading routine with some random as well."

Quinn laughs. "I'm not a cheerleader anymore."

"I know."

"It's going to be really different when we get back to school, isn't it?"

Rachel doesn't even respond, because she knows whatever she's going to say is going to be an understatement.

* * *

For the most part, Santana isn't sure what to expect when they all get back from Winter Break.

People are still afraid of her, so they part like the Red Sea when she walks through the corridors, and they cower when she so much as looks at them.

The power is intoxicating, and it's the one thing she doesn't regret.

The rest, well, she tries not to think about it.

It's almost inevitable that Santana sees Rachel first, the girl standing in front of her own locker, peering inside and looking decidedly _not_ worried about what dangers might be lurking around her.

Like Santana.

Santana remains slightly hidden, using Melissa Collier as a shield as the girl goes on and on about her skiing trip to Austria. Her eyes are on Rachel, even if her attention _seems_ to be on Melissa. Now that Santana is Head Cheerleader, she's been crowded by other cheerleaders who are vying to be her second-in-command.

Stacey who?

Santana sucks in a breath when Rachel suddenly turns her head and looks her way.

But… not at _her_.

Santana also turns, and she suddenly wishes she didn't. Because, there, dressed in a yellow, babydoll dress paired with a thick, white cardigan is Quinn Fabray. The angel, as it were.

Santana feels her breath get stuck in her throat, and _it didn't work it didn't work_. Quinn practically floats down the corridor, ignoring people as they openly stare at her. Not only is she out of her Cheerios uniform, but she looks even more beautiful this way.

Quinn walks right past Santana without acknowledging her, which, yeah, is expected, but it still fucking hurts, and she sidles up to Rachel, the two girls exchanging a smile that Santana has only dreamt of. It hits her deep in her chest that -

That -

_It was all for nothing_.

Melissa pokes her bicep to get her attention, and the action is so _Quinn_ that Santana immediately snaps at the girl.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Melissa recoils, and several heads turn their way. Including Quinn and Rachel's.

Santana tells herself not to look, but she does.

In Rachel's eyes she sees _it_: the hurt and the confusion and the disappointment and the unforgiving hatred.

In Quinn's eyes, well, she sees nothing.

* * *

Quinn sits with Mike for Glee, because Rachel is currently singing with Kurt, and their voices sound really good together. Surprisingly. The two of them might not get along on their best days - they're far too similar, and Kurt abhors Rachel's fashion choices, even if they have improved with Quinn's influence - but they make good music together.

When the song is over, Rachel returns to her seat beside Quinn, her smile blinding.

Both Mike and Quinn can't resist smiling back, because it's everything to see that smile on that face, and Mike feels an odd sense of responsibility to both girls to keep them both smiling.

"That was awesome," Mike says.

"Totally," Quinn says, absently tucking a stray lock of hair behind Rachel's ear. It's such an innocuous gesture that they barely notice it, but a few others do. Mike, for one, and he just smiles to himself.

Kurt does, of course, which means Mercedes does, too.

Santana, definitely, because she's never really been able to keep her eyes away from them for long periods of time.

Mike is the one who reaches across Quinn and messes up Rachel's hair some more, because, God, people, get a grip. Rachel protests loudly, absently swatting at both their hands. "Do you know how long it takes to do my hair?" she grumbles.

"Four hours?" Mike guesses.

"Four minutes," Quinn offers.

Rachel sticks her tongue out at them both, flattening her hair. "_Forty_ minutes, thank you very much."

Mike looks befuddled. "But, why?"

Quinn fake-whispers to him. "She washes it with rose water, from the petals of roses she grows herself."

Mike laughs, and Quinn laughs, and Rachel will gladly be the butt of their extremely awful jokes if it means her girlfriend smiles like that.

"Har har," Rachel pouts.

Quinn's smile gentles, and she opens her arms, which Rachel immediately falls into… only for them both to be swarmed by Mike's lanky arms. He's set himself as their protector, and he's going to take his job seriously.

Well, he's going to try.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Quinn grumbles as she wipes frozen syrup from her cheeks. "I didn't even get slushied this much when I was Lucy."

Rachel just hands her a paper towel, saying nothing. She'll take the grumbling over the rage, any day.

"I hate the cherry flavour," Quinn says, sounding utterly defeated. "Why couldn't it have been… grape or something? Apple. I could deal with apple. Is that even a flavour? Why don't I know that?"

Rachel lifts herself onto her toes and kisses Quinn's freezing cheek. "You're cute."

"I'm also cold and wet."

And Rachel, who may or may not be a little too calm at this point, says, "Well, I seem to have a problem with only one of those things."

Quinn gapes at her, blinking repeatedly, and then she grins widely. "Interesting."

"What?"

"Do you get turned on by the slushy, Miss Berry?"

And, oh no, Rachel has started something she's definitely not prepared for. And, now, Quinn is in her space, breathing her air, and she _really_ needs somebody to come in through those bathroom doors and save her from -

Rachel _almost_ gets her wish.

The door _does_ open, but it's not by someone who's going to save her.

It's, well, it's Santana.

Quinn instantly tenses, and shifts her body to stand in front of Rachel, as if she could shield her. Rachel will swoon about it later, because she has to be on alert right now. There are no witnesses.

Santana eyes them critically, her eyes tracking the colour stain on Quinn's lilac dress that is… less lilac now.

Nobody says anything for the longest time, and then Santana cocks her head, says, "Suits you," and then walks right back out.

Rachel studies Quinn's face for her reaction. She's been keeping a much closer eye on her since they got back to school. It's partly because she wouldn't relax if she didn't, and it's also because Judy kind of asked her to.

Quinn's parents and therapists are worried she won't cope with all the changes of being back at school, so Rachel is tasked with making sure that Quinn doesn't… fall apart, as it were.

So, now, when Quinn's jaw tenses and her brow furrows, Rachel waits patiently, searching for something.

"I don't know what I did to make her hate me so much," Quinn softly confesses.

"It's not you," Rachel automatically says, and she moves around Quinn to look at her face. "It's not you at all."

"Then, who is it?"

"It's her," Rachel says. "It's definitely her."

Quinn doesn't really look as if she believes Rachel, but that's neither here nor there, at this point.

It barely even matters, and that's going to be that about that.

* * *

As far as life goes, they manage to get through two weeks before something _else_ happens.

Quinn is calm, steady and present, which says a lot. After the initial onslaught of slushies to make sure Quinn knows her place, things seem to settle. The lower people on the social hierarchy appreciate Quinn in ways nobody can quite process.

She tried to look out for them when she was at the top, and people haven't forgotten.

What people also haven't forgotten is the name Frannie, and both Karofsky and Azimio Adams like to use it against her, because Quinn is unable to stop herself from reacting to the name.

The light dims in her eyes, and Rachel desperately wants to hold onto Quinn even tighter.

She's never going to let go.

Never.

Never ever.

* * *

After a particularly harrowing day, Rachel steals Quinn away to treat her to a caramel macchiato at the Lima Bean.

Which is where they bump into Jesse.

From the moment Quinn meets him, she doesn't like him. And, if his facial expression is anything to go by, the feeling is mutual. Jesse invites himself to sit with them, using the excuse that he bought their drinks - which they didn't ask him to do - and then proceeds to flirt mercilessly with Rachel.

Quinn sits uncomfortably, and Rachel's hand on her leg under the table does very little to stop her from wanting to slap the smug smile off the idiot's face. He is far too interested in her girlfriend, and Quinn doesn't know what to do with that.

Rachel is far too nice for her own good, and Quinn curls her fingers around Rachel's under the table. She knows Jesse doesn't stand a chance, but there's always going to be a part of her that believes Rachel is better off with someone else.

But, God, not this douche, please.

"I actually watched you at your Sectionals," Jesse says, and Quinn didn't think she would ever be jealous of this fool. "You were amazing."

Rachel frowns. "Why would you be watching show choir?"

Quinn could probably come up with a few reasons.

"We were scoping out the competition," he says. "I'm part of Vocal Adrenaline from Carmel."

Quinn, admittedly, has never heard of it, but she holds her tongue.

"I'm the lead," Jesse says proudly.

"Your voice warrants it," Rachel says, almost automatically, because _music_ has always been a thing for her.

Quinn eyes her curiously, unsure how she's supposed to feel in this moment. All she can really do is watch, and try not to feel overwhelmed by the possibility that she could lose Rachel if she's not careful. She still wonders what the brunette sees in her, because she's about as messed up as someone can get.

Rachel deserves better, Quinn knows, but the blonde is selfish.

Quinn loves her in ways that terrify her, and she doesn't want to live any sort of life without her. She doesn't want to _live_ without her.

Sometimes, she just doesn't want to _live_.

Quinn startles when Rachel suddenly pinches her skin, and she shoots a sharp look at Rachel, who isn't even looking at her. Because Jesse is talking to her and saying something that she clearly doesn't like.

"Oh, come on," Jesse says, grinning in a way that he must believe is charming. "I know you want to sing with me again."

Rachel shifts uncomfortably. "No, thank you," she says. "Maybe another time. I'm kind of busy, as you can see."

"I'm sure your friend won't mind."

Quinn tenses, and Rachel meets Jesse's gaze. He does not get to talk about Quinn like that. Ever. "Firstly, I barely know you," she says; "so, I'm definitely not going anywhere with you. Secondly, acting as if Quinn isn't sitting right here isn't endearing yourself to me. And, thirdly, you should really learn to take no for an answer. Girls don't like to be pushed into doing things they obviously don't want to. Nobody does."

Jesse looks stumped.

Rachel turns to Quinn. "Think we can take our coffees to go?"

Quinn hums. "It's funny," she says. "I'm thinking I don't want this particular drink anymore."

"Fancy that?"

"Strange, isn't it?"

"My treat."

Quinn smiles at her. "Wasn't that the original plan?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Don't start with me, Fabray."

Neither girl bothers to say goodbye to Jesse, leaving the boy looking perplexed and bemused as they walk away.

* * *

"What do you want?"

Rachel isn't at all perturbed by Santana's icy reception, because she honestly didn't expect anything different.

"Ideally," Rachel says, ignoring the other cheerleaders standing around Santana. She's already been slushied today, and she's so past caring, because Quinn is hurting. "I want answers, but I'm not holding my breath. I suspect you'd get too much satisfaction watching me turn blue, seeing as you're so okay with your former friends dying."

And, okay, Santana does flinch at the sound of that. "What do you want?" she questions again.

Rachel takes a breath. "I want you to leave Quinn alone," she says. "Get your minions to leave her alone. Send them my way if you have to, but you have to leave her alone, Santana. You _have_ to."

Santana shifts her weight from her left foot to her right, and then she glances around her. "Give us a moment," she says to the curious students around her. "I have to put this loser in her place."

Rachel doesn't react to the words, though she feels relieved when the group of cheerleaders disperses.

"Why the fuck would I ever do what you wanted?" Santana asks harshly, once they're alone.

Rachel looks her in the eye. "Because you don't want this on your conscience," she says, sounding entirely too calm. "You can talk a good game and try to delude yourself, but you still care about her, and you know this hurts her far more than either of us even knows."

Santana doesn't respond.

Rachel wants to shake her, but she remains still. "I'm not asking you for myself," she says. "I'm asking for Quinn. I'm _begging_ for Quinn. Can't you see it? I thought you did. You were supposed to understand. You were supposed to help me protect her, but, instead, you used her deepest fears against her." Rachel shakes her head. "And you claimed to love her," she scoffs.

"Don't start with me, Berry," Santana hisses.

"I'm not _starting_ anything with you, Santana," Rachel says. "I'm trying to be done with you, but you're making it very difficult. If you want nothing to do with us so badly, why are you always staring at us and following us and trying to make our lives living hells?"

"I don't - "

"I see you," Rachel says. "Quinn doesn't, because she doesn't know what to look for, but I see you and I feel you, and why can't you just leave us alone? Leave her alone. Haven't you done enough?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on," Rachel snaps. "Don't even stand there and pretend you didn't know what kind of effect your words would have on her."

Santana looks taken aback. "Yeah. She would hate me and leave me alone."

Rachel stares incredulously at her. "You're not that stupid," she says.

"Berry," she warns.

"It's Quinn," she says. "It's _Quinn_, Santana. Of course, she wasn't going to hate _you_. She was always going to hate _herself_, question herself and seek solace somewhere she can never go and come back from." Her nostrils flare. "You're an idiot if you think those words would've resulted in her leaving _just you_ alone. She was going to leave _us all_ alone, and then what would you have done?"

It takes a moment for the truths to sink in, and Santana grows pale.

"You wanted her to run," Rachel says; "well, keep this up, and you may just get your wish."

* * *

Rachel finds Quinn the second she finishes with Santana, pulling her into the bathroom and burrowing into her the second she confirms they're alone.

Quinn's mouth opens to ask what's wrong, only to find herself silenced by incessant lips and a probing tongue. Her confusion only grows when Rachel suddenly pulls back and cups her cheeks, meeting her gaze.

"Rach?" Quinn whispers, utterly perplexed.

"I love you," Rachel says. "You know that, right?"

Quinn blinks. "I know," she confirms, managing a smile. "Is everything okay?"

Rachel opens her mouth to respond, but stops when she notices something amiss with Quinn's perfect face. She frowns immediately, and then reaches up just as Quinn drops her head.

"What is that?" Rachel asks, just managing to step back in time not to -

Is that blood?

* * *

"What has you in such a mood?"

Rachel looks up at Mike, who looks a little uncertain as he hesitates before settling in the seat beside her to wait for Glee to start. "Nothing," she lies.

He waits a beat, and then asks, "Where's Quinn?"

"Nurse's."

Mike tenses. "What happened?"

"Her nose started bleeding, and it hasn't stopped."

His brow furrows. "How long?"

"About an hour," she says softly. "She says it might be a side effect of her new meds, but I don't know. They've just started trying something different."

Mike just nods. There are things they've never explicitly talked about, but he gets the gist of the situation. He's a silent observer, and a quiet protector. "That's a little extreme, though, isn't it? One hour?"

Rachel nods. "Nurse Davis thinks she'll have to take her to the ER if it persists."

Mike just breathes out, and then prepares himself to get through Glee without his incessant worry about their mutual blonde friend distracting him.

* * *

In the end, Quinn doesn't need the hospital.

The bleeding stops, and both Mike and Rachel find her asleep on a bed in the school's sick bay after Glee lets out.

"I don't think I've ever seen her look so small," Mike says, almost to himself.

Rachel has, but she doesn't say that. "Do you think you can grab her bag from her locker and we'll meet you in the parking lot?"

Mike nods. "Is it packed, or is there something specific I need to grab?"

"It should be sorted," she says. "She might want her Calculus textbook, though. She has a test on Friday."

Mike hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the two girls. He wants to offer more help, maybe even suggest he carry her to one of their cars, but there's a look of determination on Rachel's face that he'll never question.

With another nod, he leaves the sick bay and heads towards his own locker. He was supposed to work on homework with Matt, but even the other boy recognises that Quinn will always come first.

Mike finds it a little odd that Rachel didn't even question how heneven knows Quinn's locker combination. He can't even remember when he learned it, but it's almost muscle memory when he gets to her locker.

Like Rachel's - and, he guesses his own, as well - it's impeccably organised, and her bag is right there. His hand reaches for it, and slowly pulls it out, careful not to disrupt anything.

Well, he tries, anyway, but he ends up jostling a few things, and several notebooks fall onto the floor.

Mike doesn't actively look, but it's right there and he can't help it. One of them opens to reveal a page with Quinn's disturbingly neat handwriting, and he just can't help it.

He sees things like _she thinks I don't notice how she's always watching me_ and _I had a fleeting thought of walking into traffic yesterday_ and _my mom bought me a red dress that reminds me of the blood on my hands_ and _the music kills me in ways I can't explain_ and _I don't want them to hate me if I end up failing at this whole life thing_ and _I sometimes hate how good it feels when she kisses me_ and -

He forces himself to stop, panicking as he hurriedly stuffs the notebooks back into the locker. His breathing is ragged as he slams the locker shut, locks it, and then walks with purpose. His heart is beating too fast, and he's certain Rachel will be able to tell something is wrong when he finally emerges from the school.

She's already managed to get Quinn settled in the backseat of her car, and she's waiting - somewhat - patiently, with her phone in her hand and her brow furrowed.

Rachel looks up when he approaches, and he realises their expressions must match because she looks exactly how he feels: worried beyond words and entirely helpless.

"Pop the trunk," he says, which she does, and he puts away Quinn's bag, all too aware of her following him. He sucks in a breath when her small hand closes around his forearm, and he suddenly wants to cry.

"It's okay," she says, even when it's really not.

He lets out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he says, and he doesn't even know what he's apologising for.

The first of Rachel's sobs wracks her body, and she immediately pulls him into a hug. She's one of the most affectionate people he knows, and he always finds it amusing whenever she interacts with Quinn, who isn't affectionate at all. He didn't even realise he needed a hug until he's in it.

"Thank you," Rachel says when she finally releases him, absently wiping her eyes.

"For what?" he asks, frowning.

She shrugs. "Just, thank you," she says, and that's that about that.


	5. Meet Me in the Hallway

**Part Five**

**Meet Me in the Hallway**

* * *

Quinn misses the next two days of school, because the blood tests her doctors run reveal several vitamin deficiencies and dehydration and malnourishment.

She hasn't been eating properly, or at all, and the truth of that catches Rachel off guard.

Surely, she would have noticed.

But.

Was she looking for it?

It's just another thing to add to the list of things she needs to be on the lookout for, now, and she finds herself struggling under the weight of it all.

It's heavy, this responsibility.

But, Quinn is everything, and Rachel won't have it any other way.

* * *

That Saturday, Santana goes for a run.

She leaves home early - earlier than she used to when she used to run with Quinn - and heads out with the intention of clearing her head. It's been a mosh pit since Rachel talked to her on Wednesday.

It's been made even worse because Quinn hasn't been in school.

Santana wishes she knew why, but there's nobody to ask. Rachel wouldn't tell her, and Mike just gives off an unapproachable vibe that Santana isn't willing to breach.

Quinn is on her mind - she usually is - so Santana almost misses her when she actually sees her running her way. She looks exhausted, but strangely lighter, somehow.

Santana's steps falter at the sight of her, because it's been a while since she's just looked at Quinn for the sake of looking at her. They also haven't been alone together in so long, and Santana kids herself into thinking everything is okay and Quinn is just meeting her for what used to be their weekly Saturday run.

But, then, Quinn is running straight past her, not even acknowledging her, and Santana feels it right in her gut.

It's what she wanted, though.

She severed everything so she wouldn't feel any of this.

And yet.

It seems Rachel isn't the only one with the worst ideas.

* * *

Rachel takes Quinn out for coffee on Sunday, just wanting to spend time with her not under the watchful eyes of either of their parents. They stop by the music shop, where Rachel buys some Celine Dion sheet music and Quinn purchases two CDs for Rachel's car: Maroon 5's _Songs About Jane_ and Westlife's Greatest Hits.

"Don't laugh," Quinn says with the most adorable pout.

"I always forget about your obsession with boy bands," Rachel teases. "It's cute."

Quinn gives her a thoughtful look. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

She takes a breath. "When I'm like this, calm and present and with you, I don't want to die. I don't. Most days." She pauses. "But, then, sometimes, I want a moment. I need... quiet, but my mind just won't shut up, and I don't know how to cope with that."

Rachel steps closer to her. "You're here."

"I'm here."

"It's all I want."

"Yeah?"

Rachel bravely reaches up to kiss her cheek, feeling somewhat safe in this quiet little shop. "Who else am I going to tease about _As Long As You Love Me_?"

And, neither one of them notices the pair of eyes on them as Quinn laughs, rolls her own eyes and says, "That's the wrong band, Rachel," in the most exasperated tone she can manage.

* * *

"Do you want anything specific for your birthday?" Rachel asks once they're settled with their drinks and shared vegan cheesecake at the Lima Bean.

Quinn looks bemused for a moment, as if she's actually forgotten her own birthday is coming up in a few weeks. "Is it too cliché to ask for hugs and kisses?"

Rachel smiles at her. "You do know it doesn't have to be your birthday to get those things, right? Particularly from me."

Quinn exaggerates a gasp. "No way?"

Rachel giggles. "I make the exception for you."

"I count myself pretty lucky because of it."

Rachel blushes, and then sips at her drink. She's missed being able to do things like this with Quinn. She misses the ease they had over the summer, where everything just felt simpler.

"Maybe a key ring," Quinn says.

"Huh?"

Quinn smiles. "I know my parents are getting me a car, Rachel," she says; "which we both also know you already know about."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she automatically says.

Quinn just smiles at her. "You're a lousy liar."

"It's one of the things you love about me."

Quinn's eyes practically twinkle, and this moment is important.

So, of course, it gets interrupted.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Quinn internally groans as Rachel lifts her head to look at Jesse St James, who is now standing over their table, his eyes solely on Rachel.

Rachel shifts uncomfortably, as if she's just realising how close to Quinn she's sitting in their booth. "Hello, Jesse," she says politely.

He grins at her. "Mind if I sit?" he asks, not bothering to wait for a response as he immediately slips onto the seat beside Rachel.

The brunette shifts closer to Quinn, suddenly uncomfortable. "Is there something you want, Jesse?" Rachel patiently asks. "You're kind of interrupting an important conversation I'm trying to have with Quinn."

The boy honestly looks perplexed that he's receiving such... hostility. He just can't understand why Rachel doesn't seem to be responding to his charms.

Jesse clears his throat. "Well, I mean, I saw you sitting here, and I wanted to say _hello_." He laughs at his own joke, but neither girl reacts. "Wow, tough crowd." He casts a nervous look somewhere beyond Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn notices, forcing her eyes to narrow.

Quinn resists the urge to look, and rather just lets Jesse stumble over himself as Rachel repeatedly shuts him down.

Eventually, he takes the hint and gets up to leave.

Quinn turns her head to watch him walk out, her brow furrowing when he passes by a brunette woman sitting alone at a table and subtly shakes his head.

The woman stays long after Jesse has left, and Quinn is certain she feels the dark of her stare on them, even as she finally requests a pair of sunglasses for her birthday.

"We'll go next weekend," Rachel decides. "You're going to have to try them on, of course, but I think I know the perfect ones for you."

Quinn just basks in her enthusiasm, easily pushing the strange woman to the back of her mind.

* * *

Quinn's parents aren't home when Rachel drops her off, and it's the latent fear of leaving Quinn alone that sees Rachel inviting herself inside.

If Quinn figures out what she's doing, she doesn't mention it. She rather just leads her into the house, and straight up to her bedroom. It's their safest place in the entire house; where Quinn feels the most comfortable and least vulnerable.

Rachel is reminded of that the second Quinn slips an arm around her waist and tugs her close, their bodies pressing together. There's something... possessive in Quinn's gaze - which is somewhat understandable after Jesse's display - and Rachel's breathing responds by growing ragged.

And, then, Quinn is kissing her.

Rachel gives in immediately, opening her mouth to let Quinn's tongue inside. It's warm and exploring, and Rachel sinks into Quinn even further. It's a surprisingly gentle kiss... for exactly sixteen-point-four seconds.

Quinn deepens it, and Rachel can't stop herself from moaning against Quinn's skilful mouth. She feels the blonde's lips curve into a smile, and she lets out an amused breath.

Quinn's hands slide along the sides of her body, and her own fingers find their way into Quinn's loose hair, tugging gently to guide their kiss.

They haven't really spent any time doing this since before their Winter Break, so it isn't much of a surprise that they end up on Quinn's bed, the blonde lying half on top of her, lips sucking on tanned skin.

"Mmmm," Rachel sounds, extending her neck to give Quinn better access. Her own nails are scraping along the skin of Quinn's back, lifting her shirt so she can touch more.

More.

She wants _more_.

"Can I take this off?" Rachel asks, breathless as she tugs on Quinn's shirt. "Please."

Quinn lifts herself up, and immediately removes the garment, before dropping down again and kissing the air right out of Rachel's lungs.

It's hot and intoxicating, and there's so much skin for Rachel to touch and her girlfriend is stunning and she feels so good and she tastes even better.

Quinn shifts her attention back to Rachel's neck, nipping at her pulse point and licking the column of her throat. Her breath is warm against Rachel's skin, and she wants this.

She's going to let herself have this.

She's allowed to.

Rachel fists some of Quinn's hair and lifts her head to kiss her lips again, revelling in this closeness that's been missing for some time. Rachel doesn't put much stock into a physical relationship - not at this age, not really - but there have been times that Rachel wonders if Quinn actually likes this.

Kissing.

Touching.

Feeling.

She once discussed it with Santana, which is something she would actually like to forget, but it's been a docile worry of hers. She wonders if she actually makes Quinn feel good.

But, now, Quinn is making all these glorious sounds and her hands are freely exploring and her hips are canting ever so slightly, and it's so obvious she wants this.

Quinn wants Rachel.

"I love you," Rachel murmurs, her eyes shut tightly as Quinn bites into the skin over her left collarbone. "God, right there."

Quinn chuckles hotly. "Right where, huh?"

Rachel's fingers curl into Quinn's sides, and the blonde groans unintelligibly. She shifts beneath Quinn, silently inviting the blonde to transfer her weight, so she's fully lying on her.

Quinn reads her desire, and rather rolls completely off her, allowing them both to catch their breaths.

It's probably a good thing, too, because Rachel feels a little lightheaded.

It takes a while, but her pulse eventually steadies, and she rolls onto her side to look at the girl beside her. She props her head up on her elbow, her eyes trailing over Quinn's pale skin. It amazes her that Quinn can just lie there in her bra and be okay.

Everything about this moment is so fascinating.

Rachel reaches out with her right hand to let her fingers dance over the skin of Quinn's abdomen. It's a testament to how far from Lucy she is that Rachel can feel the outlines of Quinn's abdominal muscles.

Quinn lets out a breathy sigh at her ministrations. "I love you, too," she breathes; "by the way."

Rachel shifts closer, pressing a kiss to the underside of Quinn's chin. She has a question she's been meaning to ask, and she doesn't know if this is the right time, but she still does it. "Is it enough?" she asks.

Quinn looks at her. "What?"

"My love. Your love. _Our_ love, Quinn," she says. "Is it enough?"

"Enough for what?" Quinn asks, shifting onto her side to face her, brow furrowed and eyes pinched in worry.

"To keep you here."

Quinn sucks in a breath. "Rachel," she breathes.

"Is it enough?"

Quinn closes her eyes, searching somewhere inside herself for the courage to have this conversation. "I don't know," she eventually says. "For now, it is. I just - I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but... I can't."

Rachel reaches out to cup Quinn's cheek. "All I want is the truth."

"I'm the most honest with you."

"Are you?"

Quinn hesitates. "What do you want to know?"

Rachel blinks, clearly not expecting this. But, she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "What happened with Santana?"

Quinn glances away, her body stiffening.

Rachel runs her hand over Quinn's hair, gentle and soothing, inviting her to speak.

"We went for a run," Quinn says. "Early. It was dark, and I wanted to tell her a little bit about... everything. I told her about Frannie, and about some of my struggles. I - I thanked her for being one of the people that helped keep me here."

Rachel can only imagine what that must have been like for Santana.

"She hugged me," Quinn says, frowning slightly. "For a really long time. It - it was like she was saying goodbye. I didn't understand it until, well... you were there."

Rachel smooths the crease in Quinn's forehead with the pad of her thumb.

"Is it because she learned I was more messed up than she initially thought?" Quinn asks, and she sounds so young.

"No," Rachel immediately says. "No, Quinn."

"Then, why?"

Rachel eyes her. "Do you really not know?"

"Know what?"

Rachel sighs. There's always been a part of her that imagined Quinn has always known about Santana's feelings, but she was obviously wrong about that. Quinn has no clue, which had to be horrible for Santana.

Now, Rachel can understand wanting to remove oneself from a toxic situation with the intention of protecting yourself, but Santana did it all wrong.

She hurt Quinn in the process, and Rachel will never forgive her for it.

They could have lost her.

"Rach?"

She presses a kiss to the corner of Quinn's mouth. "It's no longer important."

Quinn looks unconvinced. "What happened to the truth?" she asks.

"I love you, and you love me," Rachel says; "what more do we need?"

And, Quinn is inclined to agree with her, immediately drawing her into another, long, lingering kiss.

She needs only Rachel, and that's that about that.

* * *

In the end, Quinn chooses a pair of blue _Ray-Ban_ Wayfarers, and Rachel doesn't think her girlfriend has ever looked so hot. Lima isn't particularly sunny in February, but Quinn doesn't care, and Rachel definitely doesn't either.

As a result, they make out like typical teenagers in the backseat of Rachel's car.

Well, it's not really 'her' car, but she has access to it. It was the car Hiram mainly drove, but he's switched to the SUV now. She's promised a car of her own choice at the end of the school year, but she's not complaining.

And, plus, in a few days, Quinn will have one of her own, and then they'll both be sorted, because what's yours is mine and all that. It's a little terrifying, all this growing up they're doing, but she's just trying to enjoy it.

Well, she's definitely enjoying this part, she muses, as Quinn's left hand settles on her hip to draw her closer.

* * *

Judy insists on hosting a birthday dinner for Quinn. The teenager is initially hesitant, but Russell says he'd like to meet her friends, so she eventually agrees. She'll never admit it, but she's really a Daddy's Girl, even if that truth sometimes makes her uncomfortable.

In the end, Quinn invites only Rachel and Mike, and Rachel's fathers. They're the only people she wants in her space, anyway, and she shares a laugh with Rachel when Mike almost trips over himself when he's first introduced to Russell.

When they get started talking about football, Quinn excuses herself to the kitchen to check if Judy needs any help. They spent the better part of the afternoon after Glee cooking and baking, and Quinn is quite proud of the selection they've managed to put together - which includes some vegan dishes, of course.

It's Quinn's birthday, and there's an odd sense of relief in the air. Rachel knows why it's there, because majority of them are aware of how close Quinn came to not being here.

It isn't explicitly mentioned but, when Russell stands to toast his baby girl growing into a wonderful young woman, Rachel isn't the only one fighting tears.

* * *

Later, after presents have been opened - the little lamb key ring Rachel got her for the set of car keys her parents got her matches perfectly - Quinn, Rachel and Mike go into the backyard and lie on their backs on a picnic blanket and stare at the stars.

"How long?" Mike asks minutes after Quinn has pointed out the latest constellation.

"Since before the start of summer," Quinn answers, because they all know he's referring to the girls' relationship that their parents talked about rather openly at the dinner table.

Mike already knew, he's sure, but it's different having it confirmed.

"Are you mad we didn't tell you?" Rachel asks softly, lying on the other side of Quinn, who is in the middle; who they all seem to orbit.

"No," Mike says. "I assume you have your reasons." Then: "Does Santana know?"

Quinn sighs. "Yeah. She does."

"I'm surprised she hasn't used it against you," he points out.

Neither girl can really say she'd more or less be outing herself if ever she chose to do that. "I guess there are lines people just won't cross," is what Quinn ends up saying.

"I guess," Mike gently agrees. "You're happy?"

"I am," Rachel immediately says.

It takes Quinn a moment longer, but she eventually says, "Yeah, Chang, I am."

* * *

"You really need to stop doing this, you know," Santana says the second she sees Rachel headed her way.

Predictably, said brunette dismisses the warning, and rather moves to stand right in front of the Latina, ignoring the other girls around her.

Santana rolls her shoulders and sighs. "What do you want now?"

Rachel holds out the box in her hand. "It's cake," she says. "From Quinn's birthday dinner."

Santana's face twists into a pained grimace, because she actually _forgot_. "Oh?"

Rachel leans forward slightly. "In another life, you probably would have been there," she says. "I thought I would offer destiny some help, and make sure you got a slice. Quinn and her mom made it. It's vegan, but I doubt you'll be able to tell the difference."

Santana blinks. "It's vegan?" she questions. "It was _Quinn's_ birthday, and she made a _vegan_ cake?"

Rachel almost scoffs. "I think you've made it pretty obvious you have no grasp on what it actually _means_ to love someone," she says haughtily. "Anyway, that's for you. And, you know, thanks for being a somewhat decent human being and actually stopping your personal attack on her. We all appreciate it." And, then, she walks away, a slight spring to her step.

Melissa taps Santana's shoulder. "Are you just going to let her talk to you like that?"

And, the thing is, Santana probably is.

* * *

Valentine's Day is a bit of a disaster.

It falls on a Sunday, so the two of them get to spend the entire day together. It helps that Rachel's fathers are on a weekend getaway, and Russell treats Judy to a day at the Spa.

Rachel intends to cook for Quinn, which they both should have realised was always going to be an awful idea. They're just lucky Quinn was able to put out the flames before the fire department had to be called.

"So... takeout?"

Quinn laughs at her sheepish look. "Pizza?"

Rachel just nods, and then proceeds to call in their usual order at the only place that even considers vegan pizza to be a thing. She's a little despondent as she eventually settles on the couch beside Quinn. All she wanted was for the day to be perfect, but now it's a mess.

"I don't care, you know," Quinn assures her. "I just want to spend the day with you. I don't even care what we do."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Well, obviously, I have a few ideas, but I'm perfectly fine just sitting here with you," she says with a gentle smile, absently kissing Rachel's forehead. "I love you."

Rachel turns her head and kisses Quinn's mouth. "I love you, too."

Quinn sighs happily, settling against the upholstery and drawing Rachel closer into her side, wrapping her left arm around the brunette's shoulders. She's not kidding when she says she could probably lie here for all of eternity, with Rachel in her arms.

It's as simple as that.

"I got you something," Rachel murmurs over the sound of the television.

Quinn turns her head to look at her. "You mean, besides the food poisoning you were planning on giving me?"

Rachel gasps, smacking Quinn's abdomen in indignation. "I resent that."

Quinn just laughs, kissing the crown of her head. "What is it? I love presents."

Rachel shifts until she's sitting upright, and her gaze is steady as it meets Quinn's. "It's not really a tangible thing," she says, blushing. "I mean, we kind of decided on no presents, right? Even though you insisted on the flowers, which are beautiful, by the way."

"I had to do something," Quinn says with a slight shrug. "There's little I _can_ do, either way."

"And, I appreciate it," she says. She clears her throat. "My gift for you, Miss Fabray, is, well, _me_."

Quinn crinkles her nose. "What?"

Rachel's blush spreads across her face and down her neck. "God, this is starting to sound so pretentious," she murmurs. "I just - I want you to know that you have me," she says. "For anything. Everything. If you need someone to hold onto, I'm right here, okay? I can be your anchor." She buries her face in her hands. "Wow. That sounded so much better before I said it out loud."

Quinn chuckles. "You're so cute."

"Just accept the gift, dammit."

Quinn's laugh intensifies, and Rachel glares at her through her fingers. "Ooh, I love it when you use dirty words."

Rachel shakes her head, looking thoroughly amused. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Well," Quinn sounds, suddenly getting serious. "You did say anything. _Everything_."

And, God, Rachel doesn't know how she's ever survived a second of her life without this girl.

* * *

"Okay," Rachel says, dropping into the seat beside Quinn as they wait for Glee to begin. Mike is sitting with Matt behind them, and Rachel feels safe and content in this little bubble they've created for themselves.

Quinn glances at her. "What?"

"We're never going to the Lima Bean again."

"Okay…?"

Rachel lets out an exasperated breath. "I can't tell what it is about any of our previous interactions that makes Jesse think I'm remotely interested in anything he has to offer," she says. "I won't date him, and I won't sing with him, and I'm definitely not going to be friends with the competition. That's - that's sacrilegious, or something."

Quinn frowns. "Is he bothering you?"

Rachel traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and then nods. "It's weird."

"What is?"

"I just don't understand _why_. Why is he so interested in me?"

Quinn can't help her smile. "You obviously don't see what the rest of us do," she says, dropping the volume of her voice. "You're stunning, Rachel Berry. It amazes me there aren't more people falling over themselves to get your attention."

Rachel gives her a look. "Now, you know how I feel when it comes to you."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

Rachel sighs.

"Look, if this Jesse guy is really getting to you, we might have to be more firm," she says. "I won't have anyone harassing you. Least of all a guy who cares that much about his hair. Metrosexual, my ass."

Rachel can't stop her laughter, and she doesn't even bother to control it. The attention it draws is curious, and Kurt makes another note in the _yes, they totally are together_ column.

When Rachel quiets, she asks, "You'll really come with me?"

"Of course," Quinn immediately says. "We can even gather Mike and Matt, and make sure Jesse knows you're off limits."

"Because I'm taken," she declares quietly.

Quinn's features soften. "That, you definitely are," she says, and the fact her eyes don't look away means _everything_.

* * *

It probably goes without saying that Jesse pretends not to get what Rachel and Quinn are saying when Rachel very clearly says, "I'm not interested."

Quinn almost laughs at the way he tries to save face, but she doesn't, because the boy glances over her shoulder again, and she just _knows_.

Jesse isn't interested in Rachel at all.

He's at least honest about that part.

It's that strange woman, whoever she is.

Quinn doesn't bring it up to Rachel, because she doesn't want to draw attention to something that could be nothing. The same way Rachel feels it's her responsibility to protect Quinn is what Quinn feels in this moment. She gets the feeling whoever this woman is has the power to hurt Rachel, and Quinn is already dealing with enough of her own power.

So, Quinn waits until they're leaving to make the excuse of needing the bathroom, and waving off Rachel's offer to wait for her.

"I'll just meet you at the store," Quinn says. "I know how you've been itching to look for potential songs for Regionals."

Rachel beams at her. "Was it the twitching fingers that gave me away?"

"It was all I could do not to reach for your hands and just hold them."

Rachel shrugs. "I'm not sorry."

Quinn resists the urge to kiss her. "Go on," she says. "I'm right behind you, I promise."

Rachel bounces a little, and then she spins to rush out of the coffee shop. Quinn watches her go until she's completely out of sight, and then she heads in the direction of the bathroom for all of two steps before she suddenly turns to her left and heads straight towards the strange woman.

Quinn knows the woman sees her coming.

It's kind of like a car crash just waiting to happen, and Quinn feels a ghost of a smile on her lips as she unceremoniously sits in the chair opposite the brunette and levels her with a gaze that unsettles them both.

"Who are you?" Quinn starts; "and why on earth do you think it's appropriate to stare at my best friend?"

The woman looks stumped.

"Not only that," Quinn continues, leaning forward. "Why are you using Jesse to get close to her? I mean, God, that's creepy as hell, and I'm really trying not to think you're some kind of sick pervert, because you look kind of normal, if you take away the whole stalking thing." Then: "Granted, appearances mean nothing, right? Though, I'd wager you have a strange fetish because she looks exactly like you, and that's just - " she stops suddenly, her eyes widening in morbid realisation.

The woman tilts her head to the side.

And, Quinn instantly deflates, absently running a hand over her hair. "Well, that's just great, isn't it?" she asks rhetorically. "What are you _doing_?"

Now, Quinn doesn't know much about Rachel's biological parentage beyond the fact that, well, she _has_ to have a mother. She vaguely recalls something about a young surrogate, but it's not something Rachel willingly talks about, which really says a lot.

The woman opens her mouth to say something, but snaps it shut.

Quinn shakes her head. "This is not okay," she says, and she tries to sound as stern as possible. "It's not, and you know it." With that, she rises to her feet, and walks out, feeling uncertain. She has absolutely no idea what she's supposed to do in this situation. Does she tell Rachel? Does she tell Rachel's fathers? Her therapist?

When she does finally see Rachel, and the girl smiles so widely at her, Quinn knows today isn't the day for this revelation. So, she just pulls Rachel into a hug that surprises her, and Quinn tries to convince herself she's making the correct decision.

* * *

"Dad?"

Russell looks up over the newspaper he's reading to spy his daughter standing in the doorway to his study. "Hey," he says, shifting. "Everything okay?"

Quinn hesitates, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Come inside," Russell says, setting his newspaper on the desktop. "What's wrong?"

Quinn is indecisive for another few seconds before she shuffles into the room, walks around the desk and climbs into Russell's lap. It's a surprise to them both, because Quinn doesn't normally seek comfort this way - she didn't really grow up with it - and, for a second, Russell has no idea what to do.

When Quinn rests her head on his shoulder, he relaxes and allows himself to hold her. "I need advice," she says.

He waits patiently, silently hoping it's nothing to do with relationships, because he's barely surviving his own.

"It's about… the law," she says.

Russell blinks. That's definitely unexpected. "What about it?"

"What happens to someone who… goes against a contract?"

"Well, it depends," he starts. "The contract will usually stipulate what penalties a person will face if they negate."

Quinn hums.

"What kind of contract?"

"I guess it's kind of… a confidentiality one," she says. "Like, you have to wait a certain amount of time until you can start talking about something, but someone jumped the gun."

Russell nods in understanding. "What exactly are we talking about here?"

"Don't get mad," she starts; "or freak out or something, because it was purely for research purposes."

"Sweetheart," he says warily.

"I kind of talked to LeRoy about… Rachel's and my options," she says. "For children." She swallows nervously. "We're obviously nowhere near that point, but I needed a way to ask about it without raising suspicion."

"Ask about what?"

"Rachel's adoption."

Russell waits, unsure what she's trying to tell him.

"LeRoy said they hired a surrogate, and part of the exchange was that the adoption would remain closed until Rachel sought out her biological mother herself, or until Rachel turned eighteen."

That sounds pretty standard to Russell.

"But, well, said biological mother now knows who Rachel is, and she's kind of been trying to get to her through some kid. She always follows us around, which is creepy and somewhat understandable, and I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to tell Rachel? Isn't that like breaking the contract, because she's kind of forcing my hand?" She sighs. "Daddy, what do I do?"

And, well, Russell has no idea what to say.

Quinn burrows into him a little more, and she feels so small in his arms. It's always a slap to his face that he probably wouldn't have this kind of relationship with his daughter if Frannie -

Just, _if_.

It's sobering.

"I don't know," Russell finally says. "I guess, you know, if the roles were reversed, what would you want Rachel to do?"

"Oh, God," Quinn groans. "I struggle enough with my own head, and now you want me to dive into Rachel's."

Russell chuckles lowly, immensely pleased that his daughter can find humour in this. "I know you'll make the right decision," he says, running a gentle hand over her hair, marvelling over the fact he gets to have this with her. "Whatever you need, you know all you have to do is ask."

"Thanks, Dad."

He breathes out slowly. "I'm proud of you, you know," he says shakily, and he means it. "I'm _so_ proud."

Quinn audibly swallows. "Sometimes, I don't feel as if I deserve your pride," she admits. "I can't tell if I'm actually getting better, and I don't want you to have to spend the rest of your lives worrying about me this way."

"You're my daughter," he says. "I'm always going to worry about you."

Quinn just nods silently, and then kisses his cheek. "You're not so bad, you know?"

He laughs. "Oh, yeah?"

She hums in response. "You could do with a shave, though."

* * *

In the end, Quinn doesn't get to decide how she's going to bring it up to Rachel, because Mercedes decides it's a good idea to scope out the competition, and Quinn gets roped into accompanying her and Rachel on their little expedition.

Which takes them to Carmel High.

Into Vocal Adrenaline's lair.

And, right into Shelby's Corcoran's unsuspecting life.

When Rachel stands, disappears from their hiding place and confirms that she already _knew_ that this woman was her mother; Quinn really has no idea what to make of the entire situation.

Mercedes turns to her, looking perplexed, and, yeah, Quinn knows the feeling.

* * *

"You don't look surprised."

"Neither do you."

Quinn just stares, helpless. "I don't understand."

Rachel glances away. "I recognised her voice," she says. "I knew from the second she started singing."

Quinn frowns. "But, how did you know what she sounds like?"

Rachel doesn't know what to say at first, and she contemplates lying. But, then, she sighs heavily, and says, "I think it was Jesse."

"Huh?"

Rachel almost smiles. "You're cute."

"Rach?"

"I found a recording in my things," she confesses. "It was obviously new, because I catalogue all of my belongings, but I knew, you know? I _knew_. Her voice. It was… her." She closes her eyes for a moment. "I was always curious about her, but I never quite allowed myself to… wonder, as it were. I thought it would upset my dads, and I - I would have had to do it alone, and I wasn't - " she stops.

Quinn just waits in silence.

"I was curious," she says, "but never enough to go looking by myself."

"She found you, instead," Quinn says slowly.

Rachel nods. "That's how I know," she says. "What about you?"

"I noticed her," Quinn answers, leaning back against Rachel's pillows. The ride home was made in complete silence, and even Mercedes knew not to question either girl about what they learned of Rachel's parentage. "She was… around, and Jesse kept looking at her, so I kind of confronted her."

Rachel looks surprised by that.

"She didn't actually _say_ anything, but I figured it out, and I - I _really_ didn't know what to do," Quinn says. "I wondered about your adoption, and I kind of asked LeRoy about it, in the guise of preparing for _our_ future kids."

Rachel blinks. "You want children? With me?"

Quinn pauses. "Uh, yes," she says; "but, I think that's a little off topic, don't you think?"

Rachel hums. "How long ago was this?"

"A few days," Quinn confesses.

"Were you going to tell me?"

"I was still trying to figure out if you would even _want_ me to," she admits. "I was planning on asking a hypothetical about her first, and then going from there. Because, I mean, you don't talk about her… at all, and I didn't want to open a can of worms that - " she stops, because she really doesn't know what she's supposed to say. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't even know."

Rachel reaches for her hands. "I'm not mad at you," she says. "A little caught off guard that you already knew, but I'm not mad. It'll take some time to process this all."

"Are you okay?"

Rachel takes a moment to evaluate her feelings on the matter. "I think I'm okay," she finally concludes. "It's not as if anything is expected of me. Shelby is just… a woman, and I'm still me, and nobody even knows."

"You're not going to tell your fathers?"

Rachel nibbles at her bottom lip. "I haven't yet decided," she says. "And, until then, I guess the answer is no. I don't want to give them extra stress about this, when probably nothing is going to come from it."

Quinn tugs on her hands until Rachel is moving to lie against her. "I know we spend a lot of time dealing with _me_, but I want you to know I'm always here whenever you need me, okay? I'm not running."

Rachel relaxes at the sound of those words, even though she's finding it difficult to believe they're _enough_.

* * *

The whole _nobody even knows_ is, well, a lie Rachel knew she was telling herself because, the second she walks into the Choir Room for Glee the next day, she's immediately accosted by Finn.

"You're not really going to Vocal Adrenaline, are you?" he asks a perplexed Rachel.

"Of course, she is," Kurt says from somewhere behind him. "Her _mother_ is their coach. Of course, she's going to jump ship."

Rachel freezes, and her eyes flick Mercedes' way, who looks unapologetic. She suddenly understands why Quinn can't bring herself to _like_ the girl. She really makes it very difficult when she does things like this.

"What?" Mercedes asks. "You knew I was going to tell them."

"I can't believe this," Finn says. "We barely have enough members, and now you're just going to leave us! How can you be so selfish?"

Rachel can't even get past her confusion at this. What is happening right now? Where is Quinn?

The second the question floats through her mind, said blonde enters the Choir Room with Mike at her side and Matt trailing behind with a thoughtful look on his face. Quinn is saying something to them both, Mike is nodding, and Rachel realises Quinn is doing that _commanding_ thing without even trying again.

"Please don't go," Brittany suddenly says, bursting into tears.

Rachel's eyes widen, and she's still frozen in place.

"What's going on?" Quinn asks.

"Berry's defecting," Santana snarks, but Quinn ignores her as she looks at Rachel.

"You look pale," Quinn says. "What's wrong?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Mercedes told everyone about Shelby, and now they all think she's going to try to poach me, and I'll end up joining Vocal Adrenaline."

And, yeah, Quinn does the unexpected and laughs out loud. "Wow," she says, breathing through her teeth.

Rachel laughs nervously. "Quinn?"

"Well, you're obviously not," Quinn says, and she sounds so sure that the other students seem to settle at her tone of voice. "You have way too much soul for those robots."

This time, Rachel laughs properly. "Right," she says, wrapping her fingers around Quinn's wrist and leading the way to their chairs. "Can soulless beings even throw tantrums?"

"They'd probably just explode, because they don't know what to do with emotion."

Rachel feels herself thaw at the lightness in Quinn's gaze. She doesn't have to deal with any of this until she's good and ready, and Quinn is giving her time. It's almost disgusting how in love Rachel actually is. The ease of which they also block out the rest of the world is telling, and Rachel wouldn't have it any other way.

Well.

She hopes there will be a day when the niggling worry that _something_ will trigger Quinn ceases to exist, but she's trying not to ask for too much.

* * *

"Will you come with me?"

Quinn just continues to frown at the piece of paper Rachel handed to her not five minutes ago. It's a letter, from Shelby, that arrived via Jesse, asking Rachel if she would like to get some coffee, and Quinn really doesn't know what to feel about it.

"Quinn?"

She looks up and quietly takes in her girlfriend's pleading eyes. "You're sure about this?"

"No."

Quinn manages a smile. "Well, in that case, of course I'll go with you," she says. "You have to know I was always going to say yes."

Rachel just bounces on the spot and smiles so widely that Quinn barely knows what day it is.

* * *

It's about as awkward as one expects it to be.

Shelby kind of just stares at Rachel as if she doesn't believe she actually exists, Rachel blushes under the scrutiny, and Quinn's eyes dart between the two of them as she tries to be the right blend of quiet observer and moral support.

So, it's _awkward_.

"How is school?"

Quinn almost facepalms.

Rachel shifts uncomfortably. "It's… fine," she answers. "I'm a sophomore, so it's just… fine."

Quinn clears her throat, and both brunettes turn to look at her. "Pulling teeth would hurt less than watching this," she says, her tone surprisingly kind. "Rachel, why don't you tell Shelby about our visit to the mixed market last weekend, and Shelby can tell you what she's been up to for the last sixteen years?"

Both of them just continue to stare at her, and Quinn makes a little _go on_ gesture with her hand. "Pretend I'm not here," she adds.

As if Rachel could do that. She reaches for Quinn's hand under the table, and turns towards Shelby. "So, last weekend, Quinn drove us to Toledo for this…"

* * *

"I love you."

Quinn barely has time to close Rachel's bedroom door before Rachel is _on_ her.

"I love you. I love you."

And, then, she's being kissed. Thoroughly. She doesn't even have it in her to question what she did to deserve such affection. She's just going to take it and enjoy it.

Because, she's doing that now.

She's _enjoying_ things.

Like Rachel, whose hands are tugging at her shirt impatiently. There's an eagerness that's never been there before, and Quinn's smile is automatic. She lifts her arms when Rachel prompts her to, and then Rachel's cool fingers are on her skin, and _they should really do this more often_.

Later, Rachel whispers _thank you_ against Quinn's collarbone, and Quinn's sure she's never been more in love than she is in this moment.

* * *

The next scheduled Mental Health Day falls on Frannie's birthday.

It's a Friday, so it isn't that suspect, but people are bound to notice when Quinn, Rachel _and_ Mike aren't in school or Glee.

None of them even cares.

While Quinn and Rachel get permission from their parents, Mike knows not even to ask his own. He shows up to homeroom for register, and then asks Matt to cover for him for the rest of the day.

Quinn didn't even have to explain to him what's really happening or why they're bunking, but he's loyal, and he really likes spending time with them.

It's also nice to be included in what he's gathered is something important and sentimental to them both.

"I think Karofsky's just happy I'm not around today," Quinn says, kicking a small stone as the three of them navigate the small crowds at the fish market in Columbus. "I'm sure he still has nightmares about it." She falls silent. "I know I do."

Rachel nudges Mike, and he does the thing and throws an arm around Quinn's shoulders.

"I heard he cried like a baby the first time he saw you when he got back," Mike says.

Quinn laughs and hip-checks him.

Mike tugs on Rachel's dress, bringing her closer, and then his arms are around them both. He's pretty sure he's the luckiest guy in the world.

"This place is gross," Rachel says after a moment. "It's so… inhumane. And, it smells awful."

Quinn ignores her. "We should get some sushi," she says. "Hey, Asia-Man, you know any decent places around here?"

"That's incredibly racist, Quinn," Mike primly says. "Just because I'm Asian, doesn't mean I know all the Asian restaurants." He grins at her. "And, plus, I'm Chinese, not Japanese."

Quinn just rolls her eyes, and then leans forward to look over at a silent Rachel. She's pouting slightly, so Quinn swaps places with Mike and breathes into Rachel's ear, smiling when she shivers.

"Frannie's favourite food was fish," she says. "Sushi, specifically. Her eighteenth birthday was a school day so, when it let out, my mom brought us to the aquarium and we had this gigantic sushi platter right out front. Which, okay, is totally mean and probably morally wrong, but it was probably one of the better days I spent with her.

"Sure, she had her two best friends with her, as well, and she normally acted as if I didn't exist when they were around, but I remember this moment, when my mom set the platter in front of where she was sitting, and she automatically reached for me. It was so… innocuous, but she took hold of my shirt and she tugged, so I could sit right next to her, and I find myself thinking about that moment a lot."

Rachel wraps an arm around her waist, suddenly not caring what it looks like to the outside world. In this moment, she and Quinn are the only two people who exist.

"Plus," Quinn says; "they have vegetarian sushi, which I _know_ you like."

Rachel just smiles, and then reaches up to kiss Quinn's cheek. "I'm not going to deny that," she says, and that's that about that.

* * *

It's when Rachel practically has her face pressed against the glass to the jellyfish that Quinn feels Mike's presence at her side. It's different to how it felt having Santana around, and she can't be sure how or why that is.

It's different, but also better, somehow.

With Mike, what you see is what you get.

"I wish I met her," Mike says, his voice low as they stand side by side and watch Rachel converse with a six-year-old about the animal they're observing.

"Who?"

"Frannie."

Quinn glances at him. "Why?"

"She was important to you," he says. "And, I guess, I probably would have liked to know if she liked me."

"She would," Quinn assures him. "You're quiet. She liked that."

He laughs. "And Rachel?"

"Even though she's the _furthest_ thing from quiet, she has this way of endearing herself to you," she says. "Frannie would have loved her."

Mike nods. "I'm sorry, you know?"

She frowns. "For what?"

He hesitates. "I guess, uh, for not getting to know you properly, sooner," he finally says.

She sighs. "I didn't exactly make it easy," she says. "I didn't let anyone near enough to know me and, after Frannie… died, I _loved_ your silence. It was a comfort to me."

He hums in understanding, blushing slightly. "Still," he says. "I was a fan of Lucy."

"Yeah?"

He nods. "She was pretty neat."

"You're a dork."

Mike just sends a significant look towards Rachel, who is now bouncing excitedly alongside a group of second-graders as they gush over the giant turtles.

Quinn laughs. "Dorks. Dorks everywhere."

* * *

Santana can't be sure, exactly, what she's feeling when she realises that not only are Rachel and Quinn not in school, but so too Mike. For a moment, she allows herself to imagine it's all a coincidence, but she really knows better.

It's just that, well, Santana _knows_ what this is.

The last time Rachel and Quinn were out of school together, they left her behind.

And, today, they took Mike with them.

If that doesn't tell Santana _something_, then she doesn't know what does. Maybe they could _tell_ she didn't belong. Maybe they're _happy_ they're no longer friends.

Relieved.

Something.

Santana doesn't really know what to do with all those feelings. She's _never_ known what to do with all these feelings. It's why she's in this mess in the first place.

It's also why, when Brittany pops up beside her at her locker, Santana makes a decision.

It's probably a bad one, and she _knows_ she promised Rachel, but Rachel also made promises to her, and now look where they are. Rachel said everything was going to be okay, but it's the furthest thing from okay.

It's not okay at all.

Santana glances at Brittany's face, seeing blonde hair and… different eyes.

It hurts. It fucking hurts, and all she wants is for it not to hurt anymore.

"Does the offer still stand?" Santana finds herself asking.

Brittany frowns, and Santana thinks it's cute. It surprises her and terrifies her, because she's supposed to be more comfortable with all of this. She _knows_ she's gay.

The problem is… the girl.

Quinn has always been the problem and, as much as she's tried, Santana just _can't_ forget how much she loves her.

So, Santana resorts to what she does best: ignore and deflect, and hope the next thing on the list of endless problems and issues she has will just go away.

Brittany catches on a moment later, and her face spreads into a wide smile. "Of course," she says, bouncing slightly. Then: "Are you sure?"

Santana isn't, and her hesitation draws Brittany closer.

"It's okay," Brittany says, laying a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to want to forget, sometimes."

Santana lets out a shaky breath. "Will you help me?"

Brittany nods. "Of course," she says again. "Come with me."

* * *

When they get back to Lima, Quinn drops Mike off at school, before she and Rachel go to the cemetery. Quinn probably doesn't visit as much as she would like to, but her therapist tells her it's okay.

Frannie would understand.

It's also important for Quinn to live in the present.

Still, Quinn can't help the flash of guilt she feels when she parks her car, an homage to Frannie through it's red colour, as it was her favourite.

Rachel is silent beside her as they walk towards Frannie's grave, their fingers interlaced between their bodies, and Quinn loves that she's here.

She's the only person Quinn wants here, anyway.

Well, besides Frannie, of course.

Quinn clears her throat when they come to a stop over Frances Elizabeth Fabray, and she feels something gut-awful twist in her chest. "Frannie," she whispers. "I want to introduce you formally to Rachel Berry, my girlfriend." She squeezes Rachel's hand. "I told you a little bit about her, remember? _Before_. We were just 'kind of' friends back then, but now - " she sighs happily " - now, she's the love of my life."

And, maybe they're too young to be sure, but Quinn has lived a lot of life in her sixteen years, and she knows, without a doubt, that this relationship, right here, is going to be the one that _defines_ _her_.


	6. Kiss Me Slowly

**Part Six**

**Kiss Me Slowly**

* * *

The first time Santana sees Rachel _after_ her weekend with Brittany - and, well, with some others, as well - she panics. She has the irrational thought that the girl would be able to look at her and just _know_, and she's sure she doesn't imagine it when the girl's brow furrows when their gazes meet for a moment in the corridor.

Santana actually blushes and immediately drops her gaze.

There's a part of her that almost _wants_ Rachel to know.

Maybe she even wants _Quinn_ to know, just to see if she'll react.

She has this fantasy that Quinn would go into a fit of jealous rage, but even she knows it's fleeting. Quinn doesn't even _know_ about her feelings, and yet it feels as if she's done something wrong. It's stupid, she knows, but she feels like she's cheated.

Herself, and Quinn.

And, possibly, Rachel.

Brittany.

Even those insignificant boys.

She's cheated them all, and she feels _awful_.

She was supposed to feel _better_, and she hates that she can't seem to get it right.

* * *

If Quinn notices something different in the way Santana and Brittany interact with each other, she doesn't mention it to Rachel. The brunette, on the other hand, can immediately tell that something has changed.

Frankly, she's surprised it took this long, but she's still a little disappointed. She wished for Santana to find love, and possibly herself in the process. She just wanted the Latina to be settled; to find happiness, and Rachel thinks she's looking for it in all the wrong places.

Rachel, for the most part, accepts that Santana had to distance herself from Quinn, in order to get over her, but Rachel won't stand for _how_ she went about it.

And, from what she's observed, it hasn't worked.

Santana still stares at Quinn a little too long, and Rachel still feels as if she's missing something very important.

It's a little unsettling, but then Quinn will take hold of her hand and all will be right with the world, once again. She's thought about discussing it properly with Quinn, but she's too scared of the backlash.

How is she going to react when she finds out Rachel has been keeping the truth of why Santana suddenly turned on them from her? Rachel imagines that conversation won't go very well, and she's hoping to avoid it as much as possible.

So, they don't speak about this shift in Santana and in Glee, and Rachel kids herself into thinking none of it bothers or even affects Quinn.

Which is wrong.

She has to know it's wrong, because this is Quinn, and Rachel is just coming to learn that anything and everything affects her in some of the worst ways. And, when it catches up with her, she turns either destructive or pensive.

Neither of which is good.

* * *

"This is it, guys," Mr Schuester says, walking into the Choir Room with a large smile on his face. He's pumped, and he wants his students to be, as well. "Regionals is just around the corner, and we're going to need the best set list to take down the other two clubs. Do you have any ideas?"

For a moment, there's silence, and then he looks expectantly at Rachel, who he knows is always bursting with ideas. He anticipates her raised hand, which will be followed by a breathless ramble, that more often than not gets interrupted by one of the other students.

It's predictable.

Almost routine.

But, today, well, he gets nothing.

Rachel just sits there, completely silent as she rests her head on Mike's shoulder, and Mr Schuester doesn't know what to make of it.

It's also the first time he realises Quinn isn't in the room.

"Where's Quinn?" he asks.

It's Finn who responds, looking slightly bored. "Detention."

Mr Schuester frowns. "Why?"

"She totally punched Azimio in the face," Artie tells him.

"What? Why?"

"He and Karofsky slushied Rachel at the same time, and Quinn totally lost it," the boy continues to explain. "I didn't know she had such a right hook."

"Try getting kicked in the nuts by her," Noah grumbles. "I'm pretty sure I can't have kids now."

Mr Schuester frowns. "That's unlike her," he comments.

"Actually," Kurt says; "it's completely like her." He shifts in his seat. "She even takes on Karofsky whenever he's being a little too… forceful with me."

"What I don't understand is why she got detention," Mercedes muses.

"She kind of took out a trophy cabinet in the process," Artie says. "It was actually quite epic."

"She got hurt," Brittany says sadly.

Mr Schuester is developing a bit of a headache with all the back and forth, and he raises his hand to silence them. "Quinn got into a fight?" he questions, and realises it's actually not the first time that's happened. "But, she's okay?" For this, he looks at Rachel, who looks as despondent as he's ever seen her.

It's Mike who responds. "She should be, yes."

Mr Schuester just nods because, really, he didn't expect teenagers to be so complicated.

* * *

One of the drawbacks to Quinn's brief stint in detention is that it puts more of a target on the Arts, as a whole.

Mr Schuester doesn't bring up the possibility that they're going to have to win their Regionals to keep their funding until Brittany does it for him, merely repeating what Coach Sylvester said.

It's a Glee lesson during which they get absolutely no work done, and he doesn't think he's done a good job of reassuring them when they all shuffle out of the Choir Room with slumped shoulders.

* * *

"My therapist thinks I should take up boxing."

Rachel immediately abandons her homework, in favour of giving Quinn her full attention. This is the first time the blonde has spoken about her recent episode. Instead of falling into the type of silence Rachel has come to expect, she lashed out, and Rachel is a little lost.

"Obviously, the yoga and meditation can only do so much," Quinn continues, her own gaze fixed on the textbook in front of her. "I'm calm, and then I'm not. Dr Hawthorne thinks I have suppressed anger, towards Frannie for leaving me, and towards myself for not saving her, and she thinks boxing might help channel it."

Rachel just nods, showing she's listening, even if Quinn isn't looking at her.

"She wants me to find a… hobby that doesn't hurt other people," she says. "Or myself, I guess. She's worried I'm showing masochistic tendencies, and throwing myself into dangerous situations with footballers twice my size might just be the start." She finally looks up. "She's right."

Rachel could guess that much, because that seems like the type of thing that could escalate if not properly supervised.

"So, I think I'm going to try out this whole boxing thing," Quinn says. "Without the Cheerios, I've been really focused on my… eating, which, well, you know how that ended up."

Nosebleeds and dehydration.

Quinn almost blushes, and then sighs. "She also says…" she trails off. "She doesn't have a conclusive diagnosis yet, and she's still hesitant to confirm it, but she thinks I might be bipolar."

Rachel's mouth closes and she stiffens in her seat. Through her own readings, she's come across the disorder, and it's definitely not something to be taken lightly.

"Apparently, I just have some seriously messed up neurotransmitters," Quinn says, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "It's - it's always going to be hard, Rachel," she says. "It's always going to be… there, and I have to work at managing it so damn hard, and sometimes I just get so tired. It's exhausting trying to stay… okay, all the time.

"Do you get that? The world, sometimes, it just gets to me, and I don't know how to handle it. It just builds and builds and I try so hard to keep it together, but sometimes…" she trails off. "Sometimes, I guess I'm not as strong as I like to think I am."

"Baby, you're the strongest person I've ever known."

Quinn chuckles softly. "You haven't known many people, Rach."

"I'm serious," Rachel says. "I can't really know what it's like for you, you're right about that, but I do get how hard it is, Quinn. I can _see_ it, when I look at you, sometimes, and it's heartbreaking. But it's also almost tragically beautiful that you keep putting yourself through this just for the sake of other people."

Because, Rachel knows.

Quinn is still here, still fighting, only because of her and because of her parents and Mike and Rachel's fathers. Because of Frannie.

"I know it's hard to believe it'll ever be worth it some fifteen years from now but, once you're on the other side of it, I think you'll see what an incredible person that makes you." She smiles sadly. "You are the strongest, prettiest girl I've ever met, and I love you, I love you."

Quinn gets this helpless, lost look on her face whenever her own emotions overwhelm her, and she's wearing it now. Rachel rises from her chair and rounds the table to settle herself in her girlfriend's lap.

"I love you," Rachel says again, breathing the words right into her ear. "Let me be your Piglet."

Quinn frowns in confusion, her arms wrapping around Rachel's waist. "What?"

Rachel clicks her tongue in disappointment. "It's a Winnie the Pooh reference," she says, immediately reaching for her phone and Googling the specific passage to which she's alluding.

Once she's found it, she rests her head on Quinn's shoulder so they can read together, and she's never felt closer to Quinn than in this moment.

_"Piglet?" said Pooh._

_"Yes Pooh?" said Piglet._

_"Do you ever have days when everything feels... Not Very Okay At All? And sometimes you don't even know why you feel Not Very Okay At All, you just know that you do."_

_Piglet nodded his head sagely. "Oh yes," said Piglet. "I definitely have those days."_

_"Really?" said Pooh in surprise. "I would never have thought that. You always seem so happy and like you have got everything in life all sorted out."_

_"Ah," said Piglet. "Well here's the thing. There are two things that you need to know, Pooh. The first thing is that even those pigs, and bears, and people, who seem to have got everything in life all sorted out... they probably haven't. Actually, everyone has days when they feel Not Very Okay At All. Some people are just better at hiding it than others._

_"And the second thing you need to know... is that it's okay to feel Not Very Okay At All. It can be quite normal, in fact. And all you need to do, on those days when you feel Not Very Okay At All, is come and find me, and tell me. Don't ever feel like you have to hide the fact you're feeling Not Very Okay At All. Always come and tell me. Because I will always be there."_

Quinn glances at Rachel, tears in her eyes. "You're my Piglet."

Rachel reaches over to kiss her cheek. "I'm your Piglet, Quinn," she whispers, and that's that about that.

Except:

"Fuck," Quinn grumbles; "I don't know how I'm ever supposed to eat bacon again after this."

And, all Rachel can do is laugh.

* * *

As wary as Rachel initially is when it comes to Quinn's new _obsession_ with boxing, she eats her words the first time she actually goes to watch Quinn work out.

At first, Rachel isn't sure what to expect, because the thought of Quinn involved in what can be a brutal sport puts her a little on edge. Her own research into it doesn't help with her unease, but Quinn assures her she won't actually be sparring with anyone.

What Quinn hopes to learn is how to _use_ her anger in a positive way, and _not_ hurt herself in the process.

So, okay, Rachel really doesn't know what to expect, but a dry mouth at the sight of her super-hot, sweaty girlfriend is definitely not it.

Quinn is wearing Bumblebee yellow sweatpants and a black sports bra that reveals all her slick skin and the kind of abdominal muscles that should be illegal.

Rachel is made alarmingly aware she's not the only one staring as Quinn does yet another punch combination against one of the heavy bags. Her hands are expertly wrapped, and her damp hair is tied back in a messy ponytail.

_And,_ she's wearing a headband.

Rachel doesn't think she's ever found Quinn this attractive, and it amazes her how much she actually wants to _touch_ and _taste_. It's unnerving just how intense the desire is, which just skyrockets when Quinn notices her arrival and shoots a wink at her.

_God_.

Rachel slinks to the side to get her raging hormones under control. She knows she has to stop looking at Quinn, but she can't seem to drag her eyes away from the magical sight in front of her. She's not even thinking about the fact she's in an actual boxing gym at the moment, with all sorts of sweaty guys around.

No.

All she sees is Quinn.

She almost laughs because, God, she _thought_ she could feel _this_ for a boy. There isn't even a bisexual thought in her mind at the moment. She has half a mind to saunter up to Quinn and kiss her senseless right here and now.

It's tempting.

So, so tempting.

But, then, Quinn's session is over, and Rachel watches as she grabs her towel and water bottle before making her way over to where Rachel is standing. Rachel almost wants to tell her not to come any closer, because Quinn looks positively dangerous like this.

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are shining as she wipes at her brow. Then, _God_, she does the thing and tips her head back as she drinks her water, and Rachel has a billion fantasies about that neck and that skin, and is this what it feels like to -

"Hey," Quinn says, interrupting Rachel's spiralling thoughts, because she really should _not_ be perving over her girlfriend like some uncontrollable teenage boy. Quinn glances around. "It's pretty neat, isn't it?"

And, she's so much of a dork that Rachel loves her even more. If Quinn actually _knew_ how attractive she was, Rachel's pretty sure they would all be screwed. The entire human race. Everyone.

"I had to come see it for myself," Rachel says. "Had to know what was stealing my girlfriend away from me."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Oh, yeah, you have all the time in the world to miss me between your vocal lessons and time in the dance studio."

Rachel pouts. "I constantly miss you."

Quinn's features soften. "Ditto, Berry," she says, wiping at her brow again. "I'm just going to grab my stuff, and then we can go, okay? Do you want to order from next door, and then we can go to my house?"

Rachel nods, because she _really_ needs to get out of here. "Number four, right?"

Quinn nods. "And, don't forget the extra soy sauce."

"Like I would ever make that mistake again," Rachel says, rolling her eyes. "I'm pretty sure you ranted for fourteen minutes straight."

"Shut up."

Rachel pokes her bicep in that way that Quinn sometimes does, and she immediately knows it was the wrong thing to do. That… bicep… is… _ohmigod_.

"Rach?"

Rachel shakes her head to clear it. "I'm going to go," she says, awkwardly stepping back. "Don't take too long," she adds, and then she bolts, just able to escape the question hanging on Quinn's lips.

Rachel _knows_ it's nothing out of the ordinary, but it's becoming increasingly clear to her that she and Quinn are going to have to talk about this. Rachel can't even tell if Quinn is dealing with the same things but, then again, Quinn has a lot more to combat against, anyway.

* * *

It isn't until they're back at the Fabray house and sprawled out on Quinn's bedroom floor with their food after her shower that Rachel braves bringing it up.

She shifts into an upright position, smiling softly at the way Quinn picks through her Pad Thai to get to her favourite vegetables first. She's all kinds of perfect, and Rachel is so in love.

Still, she asks, "Are you attracted to me?"

Quinn almost chokes on a bell pepper, and then stares incredulously at her. "What?"

Rachel presses her lips together. "Do you find me attractive?" she asks.

Quinn blinks. "Well, obviously," she says. "I think you're gorgeous."

Rachel fights off her blush.

"What are you _really_ asking me, Rachel?" Quinn asks, setting her food aside and giving Rachel her undivided attention.

Rachel clears her throat. "Do - do you ever think about… going further… with me?"

Quinn audibly swallows. "What exactly are we talking about?"

Rachel drops her gaze. "I just - I've been having these thoughts," she starts. "And, I was wondering if you were, as well."

"Thoughts about what?"

"Wanting you. Touching you. Kissing you." She breathes out slowly. "_Constantly_."

"Oh."

Rachel frowns. "Is that all you have to say?"

Quinn shifts in position. "Well, my brain is currently processing that, but all my body wants to do is devour you."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Oh?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Is that all _you_ have to say?"

It's a challenge, Rachel knows, and she rises to it completely when she scrambles across the carpet and lands on Quinn with a laugh.

That quickly turns into a yelp when Quinn suddenly flips them over. "Quinn, what are - "

Quinn cuts her off with a bruising kiss, and Rachel is suddenly _hot_ all over, images of Quinn from just an hour ago flashing through her mind.

"How can you think I don't want you, even for a second?" Quinn asks, her breath hot against the skin of Rachel's neck. She nips and sucks, and then bites down hard.

Rachel's fingers fly to Quinn's hair, tugging roughly. "Easy there, tiger," she says, and then moans when Quinn licks over the mark, soothing it.

"Of course, I find you attractive," Quinn says, almost panting. "You're stunning, Rachel, and I'm sorry if I don't tell you enough, but I want you, too, okay?" She's blushing, now. "I think about it, as well."

Rachel can't even think coherently with Quinn's weight pressed down on her so deliciously. "You do?"

"Not quite constantly," Quinn teases, "but, I do. Of course, I do. Have you seen yourself?"

Rachel nods through her own blush. "One day?"

Quinn softly kisses her lips. "One day," she confirms.

* * *

"What do you think is going to happen if we actually win Regionals?" Rachel asks, looking over her glass at Quinn, who is reading the menu in her hands with such an intensity that Rachel is almost blushing.

"What do you mean?" Quinn asks, glancing up.

"Like, with Shelby," Rachel clarifies, nervously nibbling at her bottom lip. "Do you think she'll be mad?"

Quinn's brow furrows. "Would _you_ be mad if she won?"

"Yes."

Quinn chuckles. "I don't even know what to say to that."

Rachel sips at her water again, looking thoughtful. "I think I would be mature about it if we lost, but it would _really_ suck."

"Such big words," Quinn teases, setting her menu on the table.

"Shut up."

"Have you talked to Shelby about it?"

Rachel drops her gaze. "Not really," she says. "We're still at that 'getting to know you' stage, and _that's_ flirting with 'deep' territory."

Quinn nods in understanding. "I still think you should talk to her, though," she says. "My therapist says talking about things really helps." She offers such a cheesy grin that Rachel has to laugh.

"Sounds like a smart lady."

"She likes to think so," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes.

Rachel's features soften as she regards the girl sitting opposite her. "You're pretty great, you know that, right?"

Predictably, Quinn blushes and ducks her head to hide it. "I did know that, actually."

This time, Rachel rolls her eyes. "And modest, too," she adds sarcastically.

"Are you actually nervous about next weekend?" Quinn asks, trying to get a read on her girlfriend. "You seem…" she trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence. "I don't know. Are you, uh, nervous about Regionals?"

"No," Rachel says, entirely too quickly. "I mean, sort of. Yes."

"Why?"

She can't look Quinn in the eye, and she suddenly wishes their server would come and take their order already, so she can get out of this conversation.

Which would be moot, anyway, because it's unlikely Quinn is going to forget about this topic.

"I'm not… nervous," Rachel eventually says. "It's definitely not that, because I'm a competent performer."

"You're more than competent," Quinn immediately interjects, frowning.

Rachel smiles. "Thank you, baby," she gently says. "But, I mean, I could probably perform in my sleep, so it's not that I'm nervous about _that_, per se."

"It's something else?"

Rachel licks her lips. "I guess I'm just worried about what happens after," she finally confesses.

"As in, if we don't win, Glee will cease to exist?"

Rachel nods.

"It's not on you, you know," Quinn says. "Whether we win or lose, it's not solely up to you. Whatever happens is going to happen, and that's going to be something we're all going to have to live with."

Rachel regards her carefully. "You're being especially great today," she says. "Why are you saying all the right things?"

"Uh, because they're the truth."

Rachel is still smiling when their server does finally show up, and Quinn places their order for them, as she's been known to do when they actually brave going out to restaurants on these dates that they attempt to make look strictly friendly.

"Because we're being honest with each other," Rachel says, which immediately puts Quinn on edge.

Quinn arches a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "_Are we_?"

Rachel blinks slowly, and then sighs. "Ask me."

Quinn clears her throat. "You haven't talked about your last meeting with Shelby," she says, frowning slightly. "Did - did something happen?"

Rachel can't seem to look at her. "I think she doesn't like me."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "What?"

"I don't know," she says, sounding defeated. "I just get the feeling I'm really not what she was expecting, and… she doesn't know what to do about that."

Quinn isn't sure she's understanding. "You mean, she's not giving off the impression she's actually interested in getting to know you?" she questions.

"It's as if she doesn't actually want a relationship with me," Rachel confesses in a whisper, and Quinn's heart breaks for her. "Like, now that she's met me, she… just doesn't want _me_."

Under the table, Quinn's fists clench, and she does her best to stamp down on the latent rage that sits under the surface whenever someone is trying to hurt the people she cares about.

_Rachel_.

"Maybe I'm just imagining it," Rachel finally says, looking all for the world as if she doesn't believe her own words. "You were there in the beginning. It was awkward, and it kind of still is."

Quinn knows she probably shouldn't, but she still endeavours to talk to Shelby, because she won't stand idly by and watch this train wreck happen. She's got enough trouble dodging her own disasters.

Rachel shrugs. "But, I don't want to talk about that anymore," she says. "Do you really think we'll win?"

Quinn is slightly unsettled, but she allows Rachel this respite. "I hope so," she carefully says. "I don't want Glee to be over."

Rachel's smile is a little sad. "And, to think you didn't even want to join with me," she teases.

"What would I ever do without you?" Quinn asks, and it comes out sounding entirely too serious. She doesn't mean for it to be so severe, but their gazes meet over the table, and Quinn realises this is the moment.

_This_ is the moment.

Until now, they could have probably got away with this relationship being a distant memory of high school, maybe, but it's different now.

It's always going to be different, because this girl means everything to her.

She _is_ everything.

"I love you," Quinn says, and she suddenly doesn't care who hears her.

Rachel doesn't bother to look around, either, as she says, "I love you, too."

* * *

In the end, it's rather easy for Quinn to get an afternoon free to drive up to Carmel and see Shelby. Rachel has some shopping planned with Kurt and Mercedes, and that's always a sure-fire way for Quinn to duck out.

She doesn't like Mercedes, and she constantly feels as if Kurt is watching her, analysing her and _judging_ her.

It's not something she's been able to bring up to Rachel, because Rachel always gets this excited smile whenever she gets included in things. It breaks Quinn's heart a little, and she's going to do everything she can to preserve the brunette's friendships.

And, well, her relationship with her mother.

Sort of.

Shelby is easy to find once Quinn arrives at the school. It's obvious she's not a Carmel student, but nothing else about her appearance actually gives her away, so she's free to walk through the corridors towards her destination without encountering any problems.

But, of course, Jesse _has_ to come out of Shelby's office when she arrives, and the two of them exchange an uncertain look. He can only speculate why she's here, and she honestly doesn't care what he thinks.

She barely acknowledges him as she glances into the office, where Shelby looks just as surprised to see her.

"Hello," Quinn says. "Do you have a minute?"

Shelby immediately waves her inside, and she doesn't even spare a second look at Jesse. She's used to blocking him out, at this point, and she's not nearly as polite as Rachel.

"Quinn," Shelby says once she's inside. "This is a surprise."

Quinn doesn't immediately say anything, as she settles into a seat opposite Shelby's desk. The office, itself, isn't overly large, but it is bigger than anything McKinley boasts. It's obvious she's important, and Quinn tries not to let that affect her.

Shelby takes a seat, as well, and she's a little thrown by the steel in the girl's eyes. Quinn's clearly come for a very specific reason, and she has a feeling she's about to learn a few very important things.

"I'm going to assume you're here about Rachel," Shelby starts.

Quinn nods. "I am," she says. "As I'm sure you're aware, her fathers don't yet know the two of you are in contact, so I feel as if it's up to me to make sure… nothing goes wrong."

Shelby frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I have to ask," she says; "but what exactly were you intending to happen when you met Rachel?"

Shelby clearly isn't expecting the question, from the blank look on her face.

"It's just, you know, were you hoping to be her mother?" Quinn asks. "Or, were you just curious, and now you want to befriend her? Or, am I wildly off base when I say you wanted a _daughter_, and you have no idea what to do with what you have, now?"

Shelby blinks. "It's been difficult," she finally says. "She's this entire person, and I - I - " she stops, sighing. "You're right."

Quinn arches an eyebrow expectantly. What is she right about?

"I think I came into this expecting some kind of mother/daughter relationship," she says. "I can no longer have children, Quinn, and I wanted to have… my baby back."

"Only, Rachel isn't a baby."

"No, she's not," Shelby says. "And she doesn't need me."

Quinn tilts her head to the side. "What makes you think she doesn't need you?"

Shelby looks the most exasperated Quinn has ever seen her, waving a hand in the air. "She's fully grown," she says. "How much mothering could I possibly do when she's practically an adult already."

Quinn regards her carefully. "Tell me, Shelby, when was the last time you called up your own mother for some advice?"

When Shelby doesn't - possibly even _can't_ \- respond, Quinn leans forward to look her in the eye.

"Look, maybe you two won't be able to establish the kind of mother/daughter relationship you envisioned," Quinn says, and her voice is light, understanding.

Shelby doesn't even know how a teenager can manage that level of maturity in her tone.

"The truth is that Rachel _is_ sixteen, and she already has parents," Quinn continues. "It was always going to be complicated and awkward where you are concerned, but I need to ask you if you're as invested in this as she is, because I can't watch her keep getting hurt by people constantly rejecting her."

Shelby remains silent.

"She's one of those people," Quinn says; "who will change your entire life. It's as simple as that." She glances away. "She's changed mine."

Shelby leans forward slightly.

"I'm not… always… okay," she confesses quietly. "Rachel helps me in ways I can never repay her for. And, the best and worst part is she would want nothing in return. That's the beauty of Rachel Berry, and I sincerely hope you can find it in your heart to look past the ideals you believe you want and realise what kind of good thing you have here."

Shelby looks suitably mollified, and Quinn doesn't think she has anything more to say.

"Just, think about it," Quinn finishes, and then she sees herself out. She can only hope Shelby does the right thing.

The _only_ thing.

* * *

It's only days later when they learn that Coach Sylvester is going to be a judge at their Regionals competition, and Rachel suddenly isn't against referring to the members of the Club being… depressed.

There are tears, and it's already decided that everyone is just going to go back to his or her cliques when they inevitably lose.

There's no way they can win. Not with the way Sue Sylvester has been gunning for them since the very beginning.

Later, in the dark of night, when Rachel cries, Quinn just holds her.

"I don't want it to end," Rachel sniffles, burying her face in Quinn's chest. "I don't want things to go back to the way they were."

Quinn knows she can't make any promises, but she does make a silent vow to do whatever she can to make sure Glee gets to go on, regardless of where they place at Regionals.

* * *

The New Directions lose.

Vocal Adrenaline wins, and Shelby makes a decision, invariably doing the… thing.

It's not the right one.

* * *

Quinn isn't used to Rachel being the one who doesn't want to talk about things. In this regard, though, she's unsurprised, because Rachel has always been particularly hushed about Shelby and all that comes with the woman.

What Quinn manages to gather is that Shelby thinks it's best if they remained friends, who admired each other from afar. Quinn almost drives up to Carmel to give her another talking-to, but she doesn't.

Rachel needs her here, and Quinn isn't going anywhere.

* * *

"Berry."

It's been a long time since Rachel has actually _flinched_ at the sound of Santana's voice, but the last few months have been… telling, and their relationship is at an all time low.

At least, this time last year, they could be civil, but it's all so very different now.

Rachel clears her throat and looks Santana in the eye. "Santana," she says coolly, taking a page out of Quinn's immensely vast book.

"We need to talk," Santana says, and she's desperately trying not to give away her own nerves. She's better than this.

"No, we don't," Rachel says, because she really doesn't have the time for this. She's just so tired of everything at the moment, and she thinks she understands Quinn far better now.

"You're going to want to hear what I have to say."

"I highly doubt that."

"It's about Quinn."

Rachel levels her with a glare so fierce that Santana actually takes a step back. "I don't care what you think you have to tell me," she forces out through gritted teeth. "You don't get to talk about her, do you hear me? You gave up that right the second you made her feel unworthy of the life she's living."

Santana blinks slowly, that familiar, yet unwanted, feeling blooming in her chest. She wishes she were braver. She wishes she had someone who would protect her and come to her defence this ferociously.

Rachel settles slightly, and takes a few deep breaths. "If you want to tell me something; just tell me," she says. "I think we've messed each other up enough for one lifetime, don't you?"

Santana clenches her jaw, and then relaxes slightly. "Just, well, you should know that Coach Sylvester is sniffing around for Quinn," she says. "I don't know what for but, seeing as we barely scraped by our Regionals because of some stupid technicality, it makes sense that, well, she would come knocking."

Rachel frowns. "But, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would she need _Quinn_?"

Santana looks away for a moment. "Who else is supposed to lead?"

Rachel doesn't respond to the rhetorical question because, yes, who _is_ supposed to lead? Stacey wasn't doing it well enough and, as much as Santana likes to talk a good game, even she easily acquiesced to Quinn's natural _command_.

Rachel shifts slightly. "What makes you think Quinn would even be interested?" she asks, forcing herself not to bristle at the implication or panic at the possibility.

The inevitability.

And, really, Santana can't even say why Quinn would. The cheerleaders have treated her like crap, under Santana's orders, and it would probably be too weird for them if Quinn were suddenly placed back in charge.

But, they know.

Rachel and Santana.

They both know.

Even if Santana hasn't been their friend since before Winter Break, she knows _exactly_ why Quinn would reconsider rejoining the Cheerios.

_Frannie_.

* * *

In the end, Rachel doesn't even have to talk to Quinn about it, because the blonde gets accosted by Jacob Ben Israel, who asks her outright if she's going to take Coach Sylvester up on her offer.

And, Quinn, who is all too aware of the fact that JBI was probably _sent_ by Coach Sylvester herself, says nothing to the boy.

She does, however, walk away with her mind reeling, though looking perfectly composed on the outside. Coach Sylvester truly is convoluted, and Quinn isn't sure what to make of her backhanded tactics.

All the woman has to do is talk to Quinn like a normal human being.

Quinn almost laughs at that.

Coach Sylvester isn't normal, at all.

Quinn doesn't go out of her way to change her routine, now that she's aware of what the cheerleading coach wants from her. Quinn doesn't know if she could handle being a cheerleader again. She enjoyed it, sure, but being the _Head_ Cheerleader took a lot out of her, and she thinks everything that happened was actually a blessing in disguise.

She never would have survived Winter Break with the added pressure. Sometimes, she hates that she just quit… when things got bad, but she honestly couldn't handle merely the thought of being part of a Squad that her best friend usurped her for.

And, now, to go back… it's asking a lot.

Quinn reasons she'll have to talk to Rachel about it. And her parents. Her therapist, as well. It's not a decision to be made easily, because she has to make choices that will keep her healthy and not stress her out unnecessarily.

Then again, being a cheerleader again will offer her protection. It will allow her to keep a better eye on Rachel, and that's almost enough to get Quinn to do just about anything.

She thinks it goes without saying, at this point, that she would go to the ends of the Earth for Rachel Berry.

* * *

When Quinn and Rachel do finally set time aside to talk about it, they don't.

Rachel just casually mentions how hot Quinn would look in the uniform again, and they end up making out like horny teenagers on Rachel's bed.

Their physical relationship has progressed in ways Rachel didn't initially expect. She knows she's nowhere near ready for sex, even if she's certain the person she'll eventually lose her virginity to is currently sucking on the skin above her collarbone.

She's aware she lost her shirt at some point and Quinn's is bunched up and there's just so much skin. Just kissing Quinn is already intense, so this is taking it to another level, because now Quinn's hand is cupping her breast and she's breathing words into Rachel's skin.

_I love you_ and _you're gorgeous_ and _god, you taste so damn good_ and _why have we never done this before_ and _more, please, please, please_.

Rachel's nails drag along the skin of Quinn's back, drawing a soft moan from between the blonde's lips. It's probably the best sound she's ever heard, and she wants to hear more of it.

They're in the middle of a searing kiss when Quinn suddenly pulls back and says, "I'm going back."

Rachel just fists her hair and tugs her back down. "I know, baby."

* * *

"I hear you wanted to speak with me."

Quinn, for the most part, isn't sure what she's hoping to get out of this meeting with Coach Sylvester, but there are going to be some very important changes if she does accept her old position.

Coach Sylvester regards her carefully, sensing the tension in the girl before her. "I don't know where you heard such a thing," she says.

Quinn almost smiles. "So, you don't want to talk to me?" she asks. "Oh, well, then, that's okay," she says, moving to get to her feet, only to have Coach Sylvester raise a hand to stop her.

"Let's quit the antics, Fabray," she says calmly. "You know what I want, so why don't you tell me what _you_ want in return?"

"Well, I want you to tell me why you demoted me in the first place," she says, and it catches Coach Sylvester off guard. "Santana told you something, and you believed her. I want to know why."

Coach Sylvester hesitates. "Would you believe me if I said it was for your own good?"

"No."

There's a tense silence. "Well, it was," she says, anyway. "I don't make mistakes, Fabray, but I did with you." She glances away, her jaw tense. "Stacey isn't strong enough, and I recognised something in you that I knew would work for my Squad. But, you weren't ready, were you?"

Quinn doesn't respond.

"I can admit I was selfish," she says. "When I was given the opportunity to rectify it, I imagine I went about it the wrong way."

Quinn just stares at her, and it's unnerving.

Coach Sylvester shifts in her seat.

"Why now?" Quinn asks.

"I'm still selfish."

"And, what, you think I'm ready now?"

"You tell me."

Quinn folds her hands in her lap. "I'll come back," she says.

Coach Sylvester waits patiently, because there's definitely more.

"I want Glee reinstated," Quinn says. "It's the one condition I won't negotiate so, if you can't make it happen, we're done here."

It's not wildly unexpected, but Coach Sylvester still bristles. "I can't make promises," she says.

"If need's be, you'll offer up some of your own budget," Quinn says. "Or, you know, maybe some of that profit you weren't supposed to make."

Coach Sylvester eyes her carefully. "I'm coming to realise that you are, in fact, ready," she says.

Quinn shrugs. "Do we have a deal?"

"There's nothing else you want?"

Quinn leans back. "Santana will not be my second-in-command," she says. "I'll decide that on my own." She pauses. "And, you have to tell your cheerleaders that slushies are officially banned. The bullying stops."

Coach Sylvester looks uncomfortable. "How else are we supposed to keep order?"

"I don't care," Quinn says; "it just shouldn't hurt." She clears her throat. "Do you even realise the damage that can be done? Do you even think about what struggles the next person is already going through? Or, do you just not care?"

There's another tense silence and, when it's broken, Coach Sylvester surprises them both by saying, "I have a sister."

Quinn sucks in a sharp breath.

"She's the most important person in my life, and I would be torn apart if anything ever happened to her."

Quinn doesn't say anything for a solid minute. "I wasn't ready," she finally concludes.

"No, you weren't."

And, that's that about that.

* * *

They make a spectacle of it.

Quinn Fabray, newly-restored Head Cheerleader, is the talk of the school from the second she walks through the front door in her returned pressed uniform. She looks more formidable, now, having filled out in the months she was away.

The boxing has made her leaner, and she has the kind of muscles that Rachel obsesses over whenever she can. One of Rachel's favourite things to do is press her face into those abs, and just _be_.

Quinn is literally drool-worthy, and Rachel is so smug about the fact that Quinn is hers. They had their moment, so she's not as worried about the attention Quinn receives this time around.

Quinn looks more settled about it, as well. Rachel thinks it's because she agreed on her own terms, and she feels ready. The look is intensely hot on her, and Rachel has been texting her about it all day, revelling in the many ways she can come up with to tell Quinn how stunning she is.

Even Mike is enjoying it a little too much, high-fiving Quinn whenever he sees her like the adorable dork he is. Rachel absolutely adores him for it, and she vows to treat him to his favourite drink at the Lima Bean one of these days.

Quinn blushes constantly, and her smile is present whenever she looks at her phone. It's not something that goes unnoticed by several people, and it makes people curious… or desperate.

If Quinn is… texting someone, then, does anyone actually stand a chance?

The answer is simple.

When Quinn gets asked out the first time, she says no.

She says no every time, and proceeds to point out that _yes, you, Jerry, threw a slushy in my face not three months ago, so get the hell out of my sight_.

It goes without saying that anyone who has ever done a wrong against Quinn or against any of her friends doesn't stand a chance, and that's that about that.

* * *

Quinn's first practice back with the Cheerios is definitely an awkward one.

Coach Sylvester leads the session, Quinn standing just to her right and eyeing each one of the cheerleaders with the kind of detached scrutiny that makes each of them uncomfortable.

And a little fearful, if they're being honest.

Quinn hasn't spoken any words to Santana, and she doesn't intend to. She's just going to hand out orders, and she'll dare any one of them to defy her. They have to know Coach Sylvester wouldn't seek her out for nothing.

Quinn is here for a reason.

When the time comes and Coach Sylvester invites her to speak, all Quinn says is, "We're going to win." There's such a finality to her words that nobody can find it in themselves to dispute the declaration.

"We're going to win," she repeats, and now there's a hint of a threat in her tone, because they suddenly know the only way they _can_ win is if they listen to Quinn.

They don't even need Coach Sylvester to convince them of that truth.

They just _know_.

And, really, that's that about that.

* * *

Mr Schuester, admittedly, doesn't know how it happens, but he's definitely not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. All he knows is Principal Figgins tells him Glee Club has another year, and he's pretty sure he stopped listening to whatever the man was saying straight after that.

The show choir director itches to let his Club know from the moment he hears the news, but he manages to temper his excitement enough to get through the day without giving away the good news.

The members have been in a bit of a funk since their loss at Regionals, and he's feeling all sorts of new tension among his ranks. He's hoping this news will make them feel better, as well as settle whatever is brewing beneath the surface.

When Mr Schuester arrives at the Choir Room - a little late - he's relieved to see every member present. They're seated in their usual places, and he takes a moment to appreciate the effect Quinn has had on both Rachel and Mike, in their own respective ways.

It's almost as if she's been able to transfer some confidence and enthusiasm from Rachel to Mike. Rachel Berry has more than enough to give.

He also acknowledges the way Artie seems to have brought Tina out of her shell a bit, and Noah is slightly more mellow. He's not even going to get started on the situation with Brittany and Santana, but he definitely enjoys it when the blonde can keep the Latina occupied enough not to throw out obscenities at the rest of the members.

"Guys," Mr Schuester says, getting their attention. "I have some brilliant news."

It takes a moment, but they eventually give him their undivided attention.

"What's up, Mr Schue?" Finn asks, looking expectantly at their teacher.

Mr Schuester takes in all their faces, and then smiles widely as he says, "We're getting another year."

The noise that follows that revelation is astounding, and he easily fields questions because, well, he doesn't know how and why.

Just that it's happening, and he would rather not wonder too hard about it.

It's only while the celebrations are ongoing that he realises Quinn is the only one who didn't appear at all surprised.

* * *

When Rachel finds out, a full week later, that the status of Glee was one of the things Quinn bartered with when discussing the conditions of her returning to her position as Head Cheerleader, things get… well, they get _heated_.

Rachel doesn't remember ever running this hot before, but she's pretty sure she's burning up from the way Quinn is currently kissing her.

Everywhere.

Quinn is kissing her _everywhere_.

Their shirts are lost to the world, and Rachel is touching skin and breathing her gratitude into a pale throat.

It's hot.

Everything is just so _hot_.

"Can I?" Quinn questions and, even though Rachel doesn't really know what Quinn is asking, she still says yes.

And, then, Quinn's fingers are reaching for the clasp of her bra, and Rachel wonders, in what world, she ever thought Quinn doesn't want her as much as she wants Quinn.

Perhaps even more, if she's going to read anything into the way Quinn shifts her hips, a strong thigh slipping between Rachel's legs.

Oh.

Well.

Okay.

* * *

If anyone were to ask Rachel how it happens, she really wouldn't be able to tell them.

Because, she _really_ doesn't know.

One second, Quinn's mouth is following her exploring hands - which drives Rachel beyond insane with want - and Quinn's thigh is moving against her… _right there_, and the next second, Rachel is -

"_Quinn_!"

Quinn pulls back in a panic, her eyes wide. "What? Did I hurt you?"

"Oh, my God," Rachel groans as she comes down from her small, unexpected high, breathless and flushed and so, so embarrassed. All she wants to do is hide her face because this is mortifying. Quinn doesn't even _know_ she just gave Rachel an -

God, she can't even think it.

Quinn studies her closely, noting her heavy breathing and deep, deep blush, and suddenly just knowing. "Oh," she says, before the most shit-eating grin spreads across her face.

Rachel can barely look at her. "Don't look so smug," she murmurs, burying her face in the crook of Quinn's warm neck.

Quinn lets out the most glorious laugh, and Rachel reasons everything that's led them to this point is worth it. "But, I should be, right?"

Rachel huffs out a breath, pouting as she keeps her arms wrapped around Quinn's naked back. This is the most physically intimate they've been with each other, and she's a little terrified it will end up scaring Quinn away.

"Hey," Quinn whispers, trying to get her attention, even if Rachel won't release her enough to get a look at her face. "Rach?"

Rachel just holds her tighter.

Quinn sighs, settling her weight on Rachel when she realises she's not going to be allowed to go anywhere. "It's okay, you know," she says. "Perfectly natural."

"That's really not what I want to hear right now," Rachel mumbles, suddenly irritated with her own reaction to this situation.

"What do you want to hear?" Quinn asks, absently kissing the shell of Rachel's ear. "What do you need me to say to assure you it's okay?"

Rachel just tightens her grip again, as if she's holding on for dear life.

Quinn hums softly. "I love you," she murmurs. "I love you, and I'm right here. It really is okay, you know? There's nothing to be embarrassed about." She nuzzles Rachel's hair. "It's a bit of a surprise, I'll give you that, but it - it doesn't scare me." She lets out an amused breath. "I'm actually quite flattered. Totally chuffed, actually."

It takes a while, but Rachel eventually relaxes, her death grip on Quinn loosening until Quinn has enough leeway to roll away.

She doesn't.

Instead, she shifts downwards, and resumes kissing Rachel's neck, her body resettling. "Did you not want to?" Quinn asks carefully, lifting her head to look at Rachel.

Rachel gnaws on her bottom lip. "I don't know," she confesses. "I do think we should have talked about it before, though."

"Do you want to forget it happened?" she asks.

Rachel blinks, unsure how to respond to that.

"It doesn't have to change anything," Quinn assures her. "It can just be a thing that happened that one time, and we don't have to do it again, okay? I'll be more careful."

Rachel just stares at her.

"Rach?"

"I love you." It's really all she can think to say, because Quinn is wonderful and perfect, and she loves her so much.

Quinn looks slightly bemused, but her smile is still present. "I love you, too," she says, because it's the one thing in her life that will never be a lie.

"I don't want to forget," Rachel eventually says. "But, can we file it away for later? Maybe, during the summer?"

"Okay," Quinn says, shifting so she can roll off her.

"No," Rachel immediately says, locking her arms around Quinn's body again. "Stay," she instructs. "I want you right here."

Quinn has no protests, as she finally resettles.

She's not going anywhere.

* * *

"It's not my fault I forgot."

"Then, whose fault is it?"

"Yours."

"And, what exactly have I done to warrant such an accusation?"

Rachel glares at Quinn. "You don't need me to tell you," she says. "You've been purposefully distracting me with - with your hands and your mouth, so of course I was going to forget."

Quinn smiles innocently. "You just want someone to blame," she accuses; "it's really not anyone's fault but your own that you seem to have forgotten it's been an entire year since we first kissed."

Rachel sighs dramatically, and looks away from the smug smile on Quinn's face that she desperately wants to kiss away. She can't, of course, because Glee is about to start, and the Choir Room is going to fill up soon.

Quinn pokes her bicep, which actually makes Rachel smile. "I'm picking you up at seven o'clock, by the way," she says. "Wear something nice."

"Oh?"

Quinn sobers slightly. "I'm well aware this isn't our official anniversary," she says, because Rachel chooses to count from their actual, official first date, even though Quinn referred to them as girlfriends on _this_ day a year ago. "But, it does mark the date when I first gave in. When I surrendered to you and how you make me feel. When I handed you that white flag and accepted this is really what I want. When I finally let myself feel this… happiness. It's an important date for me, and I would love nothing more than to spend it with you."

"God," Rachel murmurs, blinking away her tears. "Why do you insist on making it so difficult for me not to kiss you?"

Quinn shrugs, that smug look back on her face. "It's a gift."

And, well, Rachel has always known her girlfriend is extremely talented.

* * *

It doesn't take Rachel all that long during the drive to realise where they're going. At first, the idea of going to the cemetery this late is unsettling, but it actually makes sense to her.

It's about _them_.

Quinn, Rachel _and_ Frannie.

This day, a year ago, is the first day Quinn even talked to Rachel about her sister. It's the day they shared the first of many firsts, and Rachel can't help but look forward to everything else they're going to end up doing together.

Because, this is the girl she's going to marry, she's sure of it.

For the millionth time during her relationship with Quinn, Rachel wishes she actually met Frannie. More than anything, she wishes the older girl were still here, because she can't stand the thought that Quinn still feels guilty.

"We're not staying," Quinn says once she's parked. "I promise I'm talking you somewhere nice. I just - I wanted us to come here first, because, that day, a year ago, was an important day for me in terms of Frannie, as well."

Rachel just reaches for both her hands and holds them still. "I know, baby," she says. "I remember."

Quinn smiles sadly. "I miss her," she whispers, looking out the windscreen with that lost expression on her face. Eventually, it disappears with the clearing of her throat. "Sometimes, I get this thought that Frannie… sent you to me." She blushes so brightly that Rachel can see it in the dimming light.

Quinn chuckles softly. "It sounds silly," she says, shaking her head. "I just mean, you know, you came into my life just when Frannie was leaving it, and I don't think I could have survived anything that's happened since then without you."

Quinn looks at Rachel, her hazel eyes so serious. "I am so grateful to you," she says. "I don't think I can even explain to you what you've done for me, Rachel. I am so in love with everything you are, and everything you're not. And, if I never do anything right in my life ever again, I'll know that I at least did right by letting myself love you, and that's all that will ever matter."

Rachel realises she's crying when Quinn lets go of one of her hands and reaches up to wipe at her damp cheeks. She smiles at the feel of warm fingertips on her skin.

"I know none of this has been easy for you," Quinn continues, her voice barely more than a whisper. "_I'm_ not easy."

Rachel opens her mouth to protest, but Quinn's finger is already there to keep her from speaking.

"Let me just say this," she pleads.

Rachel just nods, absently kissing Quinn's finger.

Quinn manages a smile as she takes her hand back. "The truth is that I'm not easy, Rachel. I'm - I'm _sick_, and it looks like it's going to be lifelong battle. It's not something that's just going to go away, as much as I want it to, and I really hope you know what you've signed yourself up for."

"I do," Rachel interjects.

Quinn shoots her a look. "How can you?" she asks. "Even _I_ don't know what this all entails."

Rachel reaches across the console and slides her hand into Quinn's hair, turning her head to face her. "Do you love me?" she asks.

Quinn almost scowls at the preposterous question. "Of course."

"Do you believe I love you?"

"You have to, in order to put up with me."

"Quinn."

She sighs. "I do," she says. "I believe you love me."

"Okay," Rachel says, leaning her forehead against Quinn's. "Okay." She closes her eyes, and the two of them just breathe for a long moment.

This moment is important for them.

Everything that they say here is going to be relationship-defining.

"We have our whole lives, Quinn," Rachel says. "We love each other. The rest we'll figure out along the way."

"That doesn't really sound like a foolproof plan, Rach."

"I know you'll find this difficult to believe, but I don't have to have _everything_ planned out, Fabray."

Quinn lets out an amused breath. "I love you," she says, as if it's the only thing that even matters.

"I love you, too," Rachel says.

There's a beat of silence, during which the weight of this declaration and what it could possibly mean for their futures settles over them.

Rachel isn't going anywhere, and neither is Quinn.

With a happy sigh, Rachel tugs Quinn into a deep kiss and, God, she really hopes that's that about that.

* * *

_Fin_

* * *

**AN**: Obviously, there are still a lot of things to be resolved, and I have tentative plans for the years to come for these precious characters, though I can't say when I'll get it written or published. I'll definitely return to this Universe, I can assure you. Just, maybe in a little while. This was a difficult story to write, and I imagine it was equally difficult to read, as well. (I think we're all due some fluff, now.)


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